


Akihito and the Fox

by amani101



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: F/M, Folklore, M/M, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amani101/pseuds/amani101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern folklore casting Akihito as our poor hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Non profiting fiction for fan service only.

He hadn't dreamt like this in years. It was as if one image flowed into another. The concept of time was meaningless, yet he knew somehow it had been too long.

There was something he had to do.

The dreams continue to bombard him, drowning out the constant voice nagging in the background.

Days, maybe months has past.

Then the fog and drumming silence of the void cease without warning.

* * *

 

"Huh!" He woke up gasping for air.

"Hikaru! Come quick! The poor thing's awake!"

It was loud, much too loud. His ears folded in. Grogginess lingered still and he shook his head to clear it only to have pain slice through his abdomen at the motion. A yelp follow by a twine of whimpers from his own lips surprised him.

"Oh, don't try to move sweetie. There, there."

A hand, much too large smooth across the top of his head and began petting him. The strange sensation was soothing yet it disturbed him somehow. His hair at the top and back of his head felt too thick, too warm. The motion coming through his hair sooth him so he tried not to move as instructed. Moments past and the petting stopped.

His eyes pop open in wonder and what he saw startled him.

An old woman wearing a white sweater, blue jeans, and pink slippers was kneeling before him. That wouldn't have been alarming except for the fact that she was much, much larger than he thought possible. Without moving his head again, his eyes peered from her kneeling position, heading upwards her towering form. She had to be over ten to twenty meters! That was impossible.

Moments later, he saw another figure running towards him with her pounding steps bouncing off the tatami floor. It was a little girl this time, still dress in a heavy purple coat and elementary school clothes underneath while the signature bright yellow cap sat atop her head. She was huge too! Five meters at most.

Was he still dreaming? No. This can't be. The constant pain in his abdomen as he lay on his side confirms it. But then, how would one explain he woken up to the land of giant women?

The idea was preposterous. Yet the proof was before him.

As he pondered this, the little girl had knelt down beside the older woman and reached out both arms in his direction. Universally or instinctively, call it whatever; he was not about to let a giant child hold or worse, carrying him. It was not done. He was a grown man of twenty-three! Despite the pain, he spoke up and raised a hand out to swat her only to pause midway. His hand wasn't a hand at all and the voice he thought he would hear was a yip instead.

Shocked by such a discovery, his body froze.

The giant girl took the opportunity and picked him up like a newborn. He yelped more in surprise than pain as she transported him and began petting him atop the head.

"Be careful Hikaru-chan, he's still hurt."

"Don't worry, I won't hurt Gin."

"Given a name to it already, have you? Now, now. I hadn't said anything about adopting him. He's still a wild creature."

"Na ah. Daddy looked it up for me. He said Gin's kind is already do— domes— domestated."

"You mean domesticated?"

"That's the word grandma! So can I keep him? Please, pretty please?"

"We still found him in the woods. There's no tag on him."

"Look at him, Gin wouldn't hurt anybody. Please grandma?"

"… I'll tell you what, let's take him to the animal shelter in town and have him checked out. If he's domesticated and has an owner, there should be a chip on him. Then we'll have to give him back. But, if he doesn't, we'll see about adopting him after he's been taken care of."

"Yeah! Oh grandma, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

In her exuberance, the giant little girl squeezed him in a fierce hug and he yelped in pain once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry Gin. There, there."

And the petting resumed as she tried to calm him down. He was anything but calm. That monstrous squeeze of hers had woke him up from the shock, but it did little to wake him from this nightmare. His name was most certainly not Gin. It is Takaba Akihito. He's a photojournalist and not some damn giant little girl's pet.


	2. Am I Human?

That child called Hikaru, she'd brought reinforcements.

  
Hidden behind the thick linen table cloth, Akihito observed from beneath the low coffee table.

* * *

 

Five days now. It had been five whole freakish days since he was taken from his soft pillow at the corner of the living room and put into a cardboard box punched with holes to the vet. The thought of escape hadn't even crossed his mind then since he was still sleeping more than awake. Otherwise, he would have bolted for freedom and not be hiding from a measly seven or eight year old girl.

Now he's disabled with large bandages wrapped excessively tight around his side and fed with sedative laced dog food to keep him bedridden. He'd refused at first to eat the food, throwing up upon the sight and thought of eating it. He saw what they put in it and didn't want to be drugged. But after a full day of revolt, Akihito caved in to the pain and hunger. His injured body couldn't heal without sustenance or sleep and so Akihito fought the accompanying nausea while he ate. Thus for those five days, he ate, slept, and healed. During that time, Akihito was able to find out—somewhat, happened to him.

He knew obviously he wasn't human. That was a given judging by the silver-black paws he saw where his hands and feet once were. Also by the movements above his head and on his back just above his butt, he has large moveable ears and a fluffy tail. Akihito even experimented with his tail whenever he was awake long enough. So, he was some type of animal. Just what, he didn't quite know. It wasn't until the other day when they stopped lacing his food and he felt less pain that he ventured to explore the house.

It was weird at first, to be limping on all fours but Akihito soon got the hang of it, all the while minding the stitches on his side of course. His movements instinctively were natural and fluid. He could even jump and leap onto some of the furniture in the living room without opening the stitches. The new discovery of his flexibility and agility made him giddy but Akihito didn't lose his sense of purpose.

He had wandered into a bedroom and noticed the vanity dresser instantly. Wary of his injury, he worried only for a split second whether to attempt the jump before he pushed back onto his hind legs and leapt. The tips of his front paws barely reached the top before he fell. He yelped upon impact. Huffing and puffing for air as he gasped from the jarring pain on his side, Akihito braced himself to try again despite the sudden scent of blood. He knew he had tore them open, but his overwhelming curiosity to find out exactly what he was held teeth. He must know.

So he backpedal a few steps further away and attempted again. The pain on his side constantly nagged for him to stop but Akihito increase his speed instead. Gaining momentum, he leapt once more, all the while ignoring the stinging stretch of his abs and clung to the top edge. He whined amidst the heaving breaths at his success. With the help of his hind legs, he dug his claws against the side of the dresser and pushed his body upwards to lift himself on top completely.

Out of breath from his efforts, Akihito took a moment to regain it before he took stock of his condition. Though he had forgotten about breathing entirely when he caught his own reflection in the mirror. If he hadn't seen it with his own beady eyes, he wouldn't have believed it either. He was a freaking fox!

A silver fur covered one complete with swivelling ears, a wet snout, black whiskers, paws and tail.

How in the world could this happen!?

He padded closer to the mirror and sat down on his hind legs. He took a long look and tilted his head to the side. There was something familiar about those gestures. He couldn't pinpoint when or where, so much like a dream. It wasn't until he peered into the reflection of his eyes that he remembered. Like he’d seen his mirror image up close before. Only, it wasn't his reflection but a real fox in a forest covered with snow.

His memories were hazy at best. Tried as he might, Akihito couldn't remember what he was doing in that forest and what happened after. There had to be a reason for him to be in this form and injured!

Ah! His head hurts.

* * *

  
Soon after, he was discovered by the grandmother. She scolded as if he was a child, change his bandages, and made sure to close all the doors ever since.

Now, as he watched warily at the little girl's movement, Akihito was prepared to escape from her clutches. No way in hell was he going to let her manhandle him again. Not while he’s awake and can do something about it, at least.

Despite his best efforts, he wasn't prepared for the wily cunning of a pack of children. While he was busy tracking the girl’s movements, her other two friends had seen his tail peeking out from the table and squealed in excitement, giving his location away immediately. They pounce upon him like hungry wolves scenting a prey. Despite his injuries, Akihito maneuvered his body desperately, dodging left and right to escape their giant clutches but alas to no avail.

Hikaru surprised him from behind and yank on his tail. Succinctly dragging him from beneath the table and dangle him from the appendage. She swung him side to side, her victory dance gloating for all to see. His side hurt from the mistreatment as the blood rush to his head and seep through his reopened injury. Pain lance down his tail, it felt like it was about to be torn from his body. Disoriented from the pain and height of the movements, Akihito fought the urge to throw up as he flailed his paws up and around, trying to get the girl to release him to no avail.

Akihito thought it couldn't get any much worse, but he was wrong. One of her friends must have wanted to hold him. Hikaru, oblivious to his state as a child her age is capable of, tossed him to her friend. He whimpered in pain upon impact, only to yowl in further distress when the friend pressed directly on his injury. An instinctive growl release from his throat and he snap his head forward.

Her friend cried out as fresh blood not of his own flooded his mouth. She tossed him away immediately. Akihito thump to the ground hard. He whimpered in agony as he tried to scamper away without being stepped on by all the commotion generated from the crying girl. He returned to hide beneath the low coffee table, a low rumbling growl resonating at the back of his throat all the while, as he watched on protectively from his hiding place. He licks his chop clean of blood, tasting distinctly of copper, and somehow was satisfied by the smell of fear in the air.  
He had to escape. He couldn't stay any longer. The grandmother and the girl's father didn't think he'd understand but they were wrong. Akihito heard every word from his comfy pillow as they discuss about him in the living room.

"Keiko-chan had to have five stitches on her hand. Her parents threaten to sue me, mother!"

"I'm sorry, Itsuki. Please send my well wishes to her parents. I'm sure they'll calm down and see reason when their anger blows over."

"It's not that simple, mother."

"Don't worry. I'll come by the hospital tomorrow and bring her favorite cookies."

"No amount of cookies will resolve this…. Maybe his hide."

"Itsuki! Leave the poor fox alone. He was just trying to protect himself."

"They're children! Even an animal can tell the difference between predator and prey. I think this one has been in the wild too long. It's too dangerous mother! You must see that."

Round and round their discussion went while Akihito reflected upon what he heard. The father said he was too dangerous. Maybe he was right. He hadn't thought about the natural behavior of children at all, but only of his own survival. Mayhap he's been a fox far too long if his humanity is to be in question.

Despite the guilt eating away his conscious and wanting to make amends, Akihito felt panic rising. Whether he's currently a silver fox or not Akihito desperately wanted to live. He must escape. But how?

Hikaru's father left. Grandmother had knelt down before him and petted his head before she retired for bed. Akihito stayed awake wondering about his future until sleep took him as well.

That morning, the option was denied him. Akihito smelt the trace of sedative too late as he ate the food the old grandmother prepared.

The sting of betrayal was softened as he sank into darkness.


	3. Lost and Injured

His eyes bursts open with urgency.

Fear like no other erupts into his waking conscious. He was in a tight space, much too dark and stuffy.

His breathing became erratic in that instant.

For a second, Akihito thought the old grandmother must have stuffed him in the shoebox and buried him alive.

Frantic, he struggles to break out, completely ignoring the tightness aching at his side and explodes free of his confinement.

Cold wind greets him in momentary contact, causing him to shiver despite the fine thick coat of fur covering him all over. His eyes widen further upon seeing a blanket of whiteness fluffing the horizon everywhere he turns. His ears perk up, hearing nothing but the whistling shrillness of the winter wind rustling through leafless branches.

A crow half his size flutters downward and perches on a branch above him. Its beady black eyes scan the vicinity before it alights on his huddled frame. The creature tilts his head sideways for what seem like minutes before it dive down and flew off, leaving the dying echo of its caw the only evidence of its passage.

Akihito gave the area before him another look around then ducks his head back into the box. He folds his front paws crosswise and rests his head atop it. All the while, his ears remain up and alert.

So the old grandmother hadn't buried him.

Relief had already dampen the staccato of his beating heart, evening out his ragged breathing from earlier on.

He supposes being abandon back to the wilds from whence he came was the merciful thing to do from her standpoint.

However, considering that he is a human trapped within a fox's body, the thought of being in the wild as such a small creature like himself terrifies him. He is wounded still and giving off a feint scent of blood. He didn't need any innate animal instinct to tell him that he was not top of the food chain out here. He hadn't survived so many close calls when he was hanging around dangerous people or on the hunt for shooting criminal activities to understand the hierarchy of the hunt.

He understood the danger all too well. The fact of the matter is what can he do? He's lost and injured. And oh, don't forget, be-spelled. How else would one explain him being a fox in the first place?

It didn't make any sense: him being a fox. In this day and age, magic just doesn't happen. It was merely a word use to describe street corner tricks to skew a person's perception. It was the kind of 'magic' his friend, Kou, gets paid to do as a graphic artist or programmer or whatever he is. It is what entertainers and ad agencies do to fool consumers to buy their product. Except, this wasn’t an illusion. It is indeed fact. He does look like one, moves like one, and even growls like one. Akihito is a living, breathing fox from his wet snout right down to his fluffy tail.

Despite how that saying goes: if it looks like it, acts like it and talks like it then it is; the truth of the matter is: he isn't. He’s not hallucinating neither and this is no dream nor did he somehow became a demo guy for any hi-tech virtual version of a fox demon role playing game of some sort like he read from a manga. It would have been cool if it was, but it isn't.

The universal truth that cinch the fact entirely, that he was indeed not crazy, is the plain and simple truth of the matter: he is Takaba Akihito. He remembers his human life and not that of a fox. He remembers his childhood, growing up and causing mischief with his best friends, Kou and Takato. He remembers getting into trouble many times over and how his father's words and camera bail him out from that lifestyle to his current one. He is a photojournalist. He could have been a darn good one too by now if he hadn't been caught by a certain golden-eyed someone who made him rethink his priorities.

Funny how even during his internal cataloging of his life events that the man warrants in the forefront of his memories?

Asami…

He missed him.

There, he's said it or at least in thought. Curious and somewhat amused. Akihito tried sounding out Asami’s name. What came out would have made him blush if he still could. Really? A whiny purr was the fox equivalent?

Akihito wonders what have the old man been up to. No doubt, being his same old bad-ass self sitting behind that large desk at Sion managing both his legit and criminal organization. He wonders briefly whether Asami misses him too. Probably not. There's been time where they've gone months without seeing each other. Who's to say the busy crime lord hasn't got his schedule full to New Years and then some?

Akihito deliberately dismisses the tug of his heartstrings for the tightness from his abdomen and whimpers the pain away as he readjusts his body. He sighs in temporary relief.

Odd, even thinking of the old man always manages to get him hurt somehow.

That wasn't entirely true; thinking of him did give Akihito comfort for the past week while he adjusted to his temporary fox form. He refuses to think the change is permanent though.

Asami had explained to him once during their time in Bali, that his tenacity to never give up in the face of insurmountable odds is what first attracted him. At the time, Akihito wondered briefly whether the old man was a glutton for punishment to have a 'thing' for stubborn people. Regardless, the perversity of crime lords, it couldn't be helped. Akihito wasn't about to prove the man wrong in his judgment of him.

In spite of the short list of cool things he could do as a fox, Akihito wasn't bought and sold living the life as one. Ever the optimist, he figures whatever happen to him can and will be made undone. That is how the world operates. Cause and effect, equal and opposites, day and night, crime lords and photojournalists, yada yada.

With renew strength in his resolve, Akihito rose from his lax position and hop out of the box. He ignored the sudden dull ache on his abs and stuck his nose out to the cold wind. A minute and several large whiffs later from each direction he sampled, the photographer caught a familiar scent of the grandmother’s perfume and took off on a sprint, his silver tail wagging in excitement.


	4. Discovery

The scent left by the old grandmother was stale but it was traceable. He had difficulty at first, what with all the competing smells about, but Akihito managed to follow the feint trail.

It was encouraging to know that he was on the right track when he discovered a few partially snow covered shoe prints along the way. Still he took the trek onward cautiously after finding a pungent odor of decay hit his nose a few steps back. He saw bits of bone and fur scattered about. It may have been a rabbit but, he didn't stay long to investigate. His senses urge him to go in hiding, to seek shelter, to mask his scent. However, his human side won out and he stubbornly presses onward.

There were predators about. The trees and shrubs reeked of their scent, thus causing his senses to go into hyper alert mode. With only a week of being a fox and most of that time was inside of a house, his limited experience couldn't tell him what they were but he knew enough from watching the nature channel. With this many scents, he was trespassing on a hunting plane. Fair game in their eyes. So far, he was lucky he hadn't encountered any larger animals.

He should really take heed and rest. He must have been travelling for half an hour or more. Yet, Akihito knew his goal was getting close. He could practically smell the exhaust drifting from the highway at the bottom of the mountain pass around the corner.

As he cut across a large boulder, the wind changed course, blowing downwind from the top of the slope up ahead. His labored breaths cease.

Akihito stood frozen in his steps. Eagerly, he took a bigger whiff. He couldn't recognize the new scent, but his senses communicated danger nonetheless. His own scent spiked in terror.

The wind shifted back in reverse. He felt rather than heard the low growl before he waited no further and charge downward. His luck had just run out.

* * *

 

"Akihito!"

Instead of responding or slowing down upon hearing that name, the young man increase his speed hoping to avoid the person calling. It was the second time that day he had someone recognizing him. He was beginning to think he'd picked the wrong city. Still, Tokyo was the most tempting and sinful choice.

"Hey? Hey! Akihito! Wait up!"

His avoidance tactic weren't working. This one was more persistent. Releasing a hiss of annoyance, the young man decides to kick subtlety to the curb and took off running into the crowd heading in and out of a JR Station that runs to Akihabara.

However, his pursuer kept pace and follow suit. He could still hear the other beginning to raise a ruckus trying to get his attention. The loudmouth should have taken the big hint by now. The young man just didn't want to be bothered.

Despite his annoyance by the run in, the young man kept his head cool and observed the folks lining ahead of him to pass the ticketing booth. Having been through this before, he quickly dug into his back jean's pocket and fish out his subway pass card.

Hearing his pursuer gaining ground, the young man turn to catch a glimpse; he intended to identify the fellow so that he may avoid him in the future, just like the other man with the blond dye job. Like the other, this guy wasn't actually bad looking, with that dark shoulder length hair and tone physique. Not bad at all, almost comparable to his own slim figure. Although the choice of possible outfits favoring a flowery shirt over a thermal and long cargo pants was questionable. He was even tempted to stop and let the other catch up, maybe play with the idea of mind-fucking him for a bit of fun. However, the young man didn't have time for that. His itch to explore and not get caught took precedence. Besides, base upon past experiences, having run in with folks who recognizes his face would make things awkward, for them that is. He could have cared less. Sometimes, he even enjoyed messing up their lives before moving on to other entertainments.

Perhaps he should do the right thing and explain to them that he didn't give a flying fuck, but where would be the fun in that? The young man smirks at his own musings.

"Hey buddy! Get a move on. I'm in a hurry!"

Obviously, the young man commented to himself. Disgruntled by the interruption of his idle thoughts, he turns his attention to the piss off businessman behind him. He gave the old fart an overly saccharine smile then bows his head in apology before he slid his card through the reader immediately. The bar gave way as he brushed pass the gate, stepping aside immediately to pretend looking at the map on the wall. When the same businessman walks pass, he resumes at a steady pace directly behind the guy, making sure to keep his hands inside his jean pocket. A low growl erupted from his throat before he timed the sequence just so and pounce. A quick step and a hard nudge with his camera bag later had the businessman tripping over to fall bodily atop a garbage bin.

The ruckus drew a fair amount of onlookers to surround the poor fool, ensuring his escape route easily.

With a smirk alit his face, the young man sauntered off to catch his ride, never once bother to look back at his pursuer gaping at his back in disbelief.

* * *

 

Kou couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. He was certain the person he was chasing was his buddy Takaba Akihito. It may have been two weeks since he last saw him, but he was dead sure he can recognize his friend from any angle. Now he wasn't so certain.

Prior to the chase, Kou had been chatting up a storm with this girl he'd met a few days ago at the second hand bookstore. He was setting up a potential date when he caught a glimpse of ash brown windblown hair. He knew that haircut anywhere. After getting her to say yes, he hurriedly said his goodbye and began a quick walk-run across several blocks to catch up with his friend.

But the odd thing was, Akihito didn't stop. In fact, the photographer kept moving even faster. Maybe he was in a hurry for a stakeout or some other job. His friend was the type to be always on the move.

What causes Kou to question whether it was his friend at all was not that bit about the guy avoiding him, but the malicious deed that occurred right before his eyes. Having seen the look-a-like, despite how smooth he went about doing it, deliberately push the businessman like that made him pause in his assessment. His good friend, Akihito, would never do something like that. Not in a million years.

Yet he wanted to make sure. Even though the guy he was chasing had already hopped into a subway cart, the train hadn't left. Kou dug into his pocket and press the speed dial for Akihito's cell. Then wonder of all wonders, the doppelganger plucked out a device, checked it, and turn it off. The connection on his end ceases.


	5. So this is Tokyo

The giant billboards, cartoonish mascots, and garish ads gave him a headache. There was no escaping. It felt like they were following him everywhere he walk.

Where was the fun stuff? The young man had combed the streets of the famous electric wonderland searching for entertainment for two whole hours now. The sun was almost setting and all he found was useless gadgetry, electronic appliances, computers and what seems like heaps of the latest and greatest phones on the market. He wasn't interested on all that stuff. These mindless devices gave him no satisfaction. They were too singular. He needed interaction.

Despite the majority of detractions though, to amuse himself while thus bored, he began to discretely acquire items without paying. It was almost too easy and ironic too, given how most of the shops didn't even install security cameras. It took a bit of practice with smaller items but as the day continued, he graduated to more expensive items, thus shops with higher security measures.

By the time he relented and regroups at the nearest JR station, the young man hopped onto a train and sat at a secluded corner to check his loot. His camera bag and coat pockets were filled to brimming with items. Besides the ever present SLR camera, lenses and filters, he managed to acquire two more C class digital cameras, a high end translator dictionary, a PDA type smart phone, two laser point pens, a Sony PSP, five mini mp3 players, and a hentai deck of cards featuring various depictions of a human/fox type of hybrid. The last was his crowning prize.

In spite of the popular belief among his brethrens, the young man found the concept, instead of sickening, to be quite arousing. And since his mind was already heading in that direction, the young man realized he didn't mind enacting out some of his immediate fantasies.

First things first though, he needed money. Perhaps, lots of money given how his cohorts who share his particular fetish had expounded upon this fact. With this in mind, the young man packs all the loot back up and change train at Tokyo Station. If he remembers correctly, Kabukicho in Shinjuku wasn't just known for their nightly entertainments, it also has the handiest pawn shops.

The young man stepped out from the back of the pawn shop to the darken alleyway. His person felt lighter and heavy with the amount of cash he collected for all the items. He hadn't intended for his little afternoon escapade to be so lucrative. In the future, he decided to keep that option in mind. It may be worth the headache after all.

What surprised him though, of all the items he'd acquire, it was the camera and accessories he had with him from the start that had the pawn shop owner salivating. If he'd known how much that contraption was worth from the beginning, he would have bartered it the first chance he got. No matter, he'd pawned everything except for the deck of cards. He even included that pesky phone with the ugly dangle. There was no accounting for someone else's taste.

On that line of thought, the young man took a long inspection of his own threadbare clothes. A look of disgust crosses his features. This just wouldn't do. Shaking his head in negation, he decided to spend his newly acquire cash on something more refine. If one intended to impress the ladies of the night, one needs to dress for the occasion. With that thought set, the young man put both hands inside his pocket and began whistling a tune. He exits the alley and steps foot onto the busy streets of Shinjuku. His night was just beginning.

* * *

 

The pawn shop owner thought he could recognize a thief whenever he saw one. That assertion had made him question his own judgment as soon as that young man walked through his doors. He'd never seen the fellow before and was certainly not one of his regulars. He didn't have the usual desperate look about him as most others often do when they enter his shop. The encounter left him pleasantly surprised and dare he say, entertained.

The young man was handsome and had an easy going smile. Just a kid really. He had that kind of face, the type who would pick up a thousand yen note and give it back to the person who dropped it. Thus, the shop owner felt more than surprised to see him inquire quite politely about selling some used items of his. Though all the stickers were removed, the electronics were brand spanking new. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. He raised a brow in comment and the young man had finally donned a different mask in lieu of the city bumpkin.

He should have known then to be wary. The crafty fellow was an old pro. The negotiation, though lighthearted, had an underlining mercenary air. Despite the minor loss of profit margin for most of the stolen goods, the young man surprisingly didn't barter at all for the items that were used. The SLR camera was an antique and in still working condition. All the accessories were there. He could see it was well taken care of. Being the good businessman, the shop owner didn't let on the value of the camera and attachments. He gave an offer the other was surprised to receive. No counteroffer was given. Surely, the item was worth twice if not three times the amount offered. No matter. It was his now.

Giddy with his new acquirements, the shop owner went about removing any telltale signs that the goods were stolen. All he needed was to scruff it gently a few times with a light grade sandpaper and burlap cloth. He had to activate a few items without alerting the officials but that was easy enough. Crack codes and confirmation numbers were easy to generate given the right software tools. He knew a few crackers just for that purpose. It didn't hurt to keep them on the books as consulting fees. The only thing left was the fairly used phone the kid sold. It was the only item besides the SLR camera that looks personalized.

As soon as the shop owner turns the device on, he was bombarded by a generic ringtone. Luckily the device was one of those that had an unlock switch instead of using a pass code. He only intended to end the call but as soon as he unlocked it, the call went through and he heard a voice he'd never thought to be privilege enough to interact with. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Takaba. Where are you?"

He thought he was mistaken and checked the caller id to be sure. His face immediately pale, his hands began to shake. Sure enough, it was HIM.

The shop owner didn't know what to do.

The young fellow must be an important kid to have that private number line. What if he was an important man to the caller? Another thought hit him, what if the phone was stolen too?

His thoughts were becoming frazzled. To answer or not to answer?

"Takaba."

The tone demanded to make the decision for him. The shop owner tentatively raises the shaky phone to his ear and responds. He had to clear his voice first to recover some level of courage and yet it still came out as a squeak.

"Ah— Ah— Asami-sama…"

There was a moment of silence. Then,

"Who is this?"

If the tone before he thought was menacing, those three words spoken in such wintry cold voice made him pee in his pants. He just knew that damn kid was trouble the minute that mask dropped. The shop owner plans to fine tune his judgment in regards to polite handsome young men, if he survives the night that is.


	6. Star Struck

Ten minutes after the phone conversation ended and he had a change of clothes (to impress Asami-sama of course), three men sharply dressed in tailored suits invaded his territory. They entered his shop without a word while one of them gave him a nod and took sentinel at the front door. The other two tour the perimeter with meticulous care before they split off with one of them standing guard at the back alley exit. The remaining fellow stood in the middle of the shop for a few moments before he pulls out a pair of leather gloves and put them on.

Upon seeing this, the shop owner blanches and swallows a large lump of anxiety at the implication. He knew this was going to happen and yet it still scared him shitless. No one talks to Asami Ryuichi and doesn't expect a visit when the man literally tells you in not so many words, 'to see your goods.' He knew it wasn't his inventory the man was interested in. His imagination begins working overtime as he shrinks behind the counter and tries to make himself look invisible.

His eyes never left the man with the leather gloves as the fellow pulled out a used card table he acquired for a hundred yen that he stuffed somewhere and an antique desk lamp he got for even less atop it.

The shop owner swallowed another lump. He hopes the lamp makes it through this without a mark. He was planning to auction that off on eBay for fifty thousand yen to start.

Wait, what was he thinking? The shop owner shakes his head to clear it.

He knew that impromptu interrogation set was for him. The stern look directed his way confirmed it. The guy didn't have to ask out loud, the shop owner was more than willing to cooperate. He promptly scurries around the counter and plop himself in the seat.

The fellow gave him a firm nod of approval and didn't bother to shove the blearing desk lamp in front of his face. The shop owner was grateful at least for that small reprieve.

The wait was excruciating. It was his own pawn shop for Buddha sake, yet the environment felt foreign to him.

The shop owner still couldn't believe he'd exchange words with the resident king pin himself. It was surreal. He'd known of the crime lord. Who worth their salt in connection to the black market wouldn't? In fact, he held tremendous reverence towards Asami-sama. The man had risen to power like a quiet storm about seven years ago and has yet to relinquish his hold. Though Asami-sama wasn't yakuza, the man probably hold more power than all the family combine. To cross him was suicide.

The shop owner made it his business to know what was going on about him. His shop didn't survive for twenty years because he had a booming business. No. It… well HE survived because he made a point not to anger the wrong people and provide information when prompted.

Others would have run given the same situation he was in. Not him though. The shop owner knew better. He may be a shitless coward most times, but Asami-sama's reputation assured him that the man doesn't deal out punishment without cause. The shop owner was certain he hadn't offended the man at all.

That thief must have done a number to Asami –sama in order for him to handle this personally. Curiosity soon seep in through the shop owner's present anxiety as the multiple clocks he hung behind the counter continues to tick away.

There was no loud fanfare when the man they were all waiting for walks in through his doors followed by two equally tall men with the same tailored suits. The one on his right wore black rim glasses and carries a leather brown briefcase while the hulking blond to his left wore a scowl that spoke plainly enough. Both was more than enough intimidation by their own account, however combine with the direct glare from the man himself, the shop owner had to thank his bladder for emptying itself out earlier. That particular embarrassment was enough for him to own up to without witnesses.

The shop owner hadn't thought he be actually anticipating the presence of the man himself. It was awe inspiring. It was as if Asami Ryuichi walked right out of a western Mafioso movie he once saw as he dons that black Italian wool coat over his grey suit like a sable cloak over silver armor. The wispy threads of cigarette smoke wafting out of the man's mouth only enhancing the allure.

Again what was he thinking? The shop owner shakes his head to break out of the fanciful spell he's under. It would seem he'd been daydreaming on more counts tonight than all of his years working behind the counter. He was a pragmatist.

Taking a much needed breath, the shop owner shifts in his seat and tries his best not to goggle at the revered king pin.

* * *

 

Kirishima Kei would have rolled his eyes if he was capable of this feat. Before them sat the store owner who's greatly rotund figure could not be made any smaller despite how he fidgets about. But this wasn't the reason that had the ever stoic secretary almost break face. The fact is the fortyish (give or take ten years) looking man was eying his boss with a severe case of hero worship. So much so, it was quite blatant that all the man's long adhere-to survival instincts have completely flew out the window. It would have been comical if the situation had not been so dire.

Asami-sama's "wife" (as Kirishima has dubbed Takaba Akihito quite fondly ever since he moved in with the boss and took over the housework) has been missing for two whole weeks. Although, it may not have been the first time this has happen, it was the first in which he couldn't be tracked. It was as if the young man has disappeared off the face of the earth. The last known activity recorded was by Asami-sama himself.

Before he left, the photographer had routinely inform his older lover that he was venturing north, to Nikko in the Tochigi prefecture. The assignment should have been a week long shoot of the city for a tourism group promoting the place for winter travel.

Kirishima was only able to confirm the kid had check-in upon his arrival to the hostel hosted by the local Buddhist monastery. Other than that, no one has seen or heard of Takaba Akihito soon after.

Even though Takaba's status was never declared openly, those under Asami-sama's employ as well as those acquainted with the kid knows otherwise. His disappearance warranted Kirishima to mobilize a small army of informants to be on the lookout within the next twenty-four hours.

The situation could have been manageable were they to have any leads. As in the case when Liu Fei Long kidnapped the young photographer a few months ago. At least then, their boss has something to focus on. Then, their people had clear instructions in what to do. In this case, there was nothing they could do. There were no ransom notes, no catty display of 'up yours' from the Chinese or Russians, and luckily, there was no dead body.

Suffice it to say, his lack of intel for the past two weeks has left his boss in a blacken mood. The metaphorical term, stepping on eggshells, couldn't verily begin to describe the atmosphere surrounding their boss.

It wasn't until about three hours ago, when Kirishima began to receive calls from within the city block. Sightings were alerted but couldn't be verified until the security cameras and photos taken from cell phones were gathered. The tap on Takaba's friends had yielded some results. Their hackers couldn't triangulate an exact location though. They could only pinpoint a two hundred kilometer radius before Takaba's cell phone was shut off once again. Whatever the case may be, Asami-sama has taken on the task personally.

So this poor ignorant fool was about to feel the initial brunt of all that pent up anxiety his boss had been storing.

As a general precaution, Kirishima had previously given the clean-up crew a heads up for a long night up ahead just in case.

Whether or not Asami-sama was going to paint the Tokyo nightlight a different color, they're about to find out.


	7. Cat and Mouse

The amount of men present didn't surprise him. He knew it was more for the shop owner's benefit than to secure his own safety. Despite his annoyance, Asami decided to withhold all comments regarding Kirishima's not too tactful staging. The man knew how much he dislike being detailed by his own subordinates. He much prefer to keep his instincts sharp and his movement unhindered, not dulled and stifled by a false sense of security. He only permitted Kirishima and Suoh to accompany him because they are both an efficient and deadly combination.

Asami finds their counsel invaluable and their company calming, which as of late was much needed. He knew the tight rein he held on his anger have been lessening. The last time his temper was let loose entirely, he'd empty his clip on two different people. Although the first person received the brunt of his frustration, the second was duly to avenge Takaba.

It was the first death that reminded him of his lack of control. That night, despite all his careful planning in prepping his subordinates on the ships layout and highlighting Fei Long's security team, he'd made several miscalculations. Ones he never plans to remake.

The risk of entering his enemy's territory was high. Most leaders would have cut their losses and retreat. Most leaders would not account their lover as an asset. Most leaders would think he be a fool to trade a multimillion dollar deed for said lover. Asami was not most leaders. He didn't survive a decade of being in the business in order to crumble at such an adversity. He knew value and Takaba Akihito was worth more than that damn floating casino twice over. He didn't think others would see the same.

In that regards he was truly mistaken. Both Liu Fei Long and Mikhail Arbotov saw through his actions. He underestimated the appeal of his lover as well. Asami suspected Fei Long's intentions to manipulate both of them throughout Takaba's captivity. He was prepared for it. What he didn't expect was a genuine affection forming between the two. It was the duality of the Stockholm Syndrome played out to its fullest. He'd use that tactic on the kid initially and should have known the kid may be susceptible to another. Otherwise, despite this minor backlash from the whole sordid incident, Akihito is still firmly his.

As for that other brat, Arbotov, Asami's opinion of him still hasn't changed. The blonde Russian is still a business liaison he would deal again given the right incentives. His meddling in the whole incident was just that, annoying as always. The death of his uncle Yuri wasn't even a loss to the Russian. Not surprising, Asami didn't press on the man's offense against his lover either. So it was resolved with mutual satisfaction and no reprisals were made from either party.

Overall, there was much to be gain from the Hong Kong incident. Not in the amount of dollars, power and people per se, but in other matters that were worth more in the long haul. The Russians received their weapons and have begun strengthening their footholds in the Asian criminal market. One would think this would be a strategic disadvantage in aiding another contender, but by enabling them, Asami in turn benefits from the check and balance he created to counteract Fei Long's grasps on the smuggling routes to and from mainland China. While the Chinese is distracted by the Russians, the blockage is clear for him to pave through.

In spite of his ruthless reputation, Asami had no compulsion to wipe out his competitors. If he wanted to usurp Fei Long's rule, he would have done the deed seven years ago. At the time, Baishe was ripe for the taking. He didn't pounce then, nor will he ever liked to in the future. That is not if Fei Long pits their organizations against each other once more. Asami has no qualm of teaching the Baishe leader the meaning of boundaries once and for all.

That scenario though seems less likely more and more. For Takaba had managed in the manner of days what he'd striven to maintain for years, a truce build upon genuine friendship. With his own lover as ambassador no less.

A lover he had scarcely seen or heard from in two weeks.

Thus brings the present circumstances to light.

Asami gives a mental shake of his head, remembering all too clearly why most times he'd opt out of interrogations and defer the task to his subordinates throughout the years. When the occasion calls for it, he would dole out the questions and torment himself. Most times it was to reestablish order or efficiency. Oftentimes, nothing but shear boredom or perverse anger could have induced him to personally handle the varied situations.

It must have been the latter that such precaution Kirishima thinks is necessary this time around.

Asami thought it was overkill.

Truly, for how would one rate this lovely scenario placed before him? A trembling fat goose that is all too eager for his own plucking.

Indeed it was another one.

He'd dealt with the store owner's kind before. Whether be it men or women, eyes filled with greed or lust, they wore all the same shade of fear. Each one readily begs to bargain their valuables.

Takaba was one of the few that were exempted from total annihilation. The kid had shown tremendous courage in spite of the pain, pleasure and humiliation he endured. His fighting spirit never wavered. There was fire behind those brown eyes and a passion that ignited between their bodies since the beginning. That was unexpected. From the moment on, Asami knew he was drawn to his own captive.

As soon as he finds his errant lover, whom reappeared out of nowhere and none the worse for wear, Asami plans to teach a different kind of lesson. The kid needed a reminder of their relationship. And it is a relationship whether he likes it or not.

It was an eventuality. The boy can't escape him. And whatever links or obstacles that stand between them better connect and flatten themselves before he makes way towards Takaba.

Today was no exception. The worry he felt long replaced by irritation. He's waited long enough.

Asami scans the store with a peripheral once over and begins the process of methodically removing his gloves and over coat. He hands both articles over to Suoh who then takes the items and smoothes them to hang over his large forearm. He takes a pause and decides to forgo removing his suit jacket. The situation didn't warrant the display of his .45 Glock.

Five bodies visibly relaxed their stance while one clueless owner continued gaping. Kirishima immediately loosen the death grip he had on his briefcase.

Asami's face remains stoic. Perhaps he shouldn't disappoint his audience.

Fixating a glare on the owner, his steps brought him a table's width from his target. One of his enforcers, Kenji, sets up a fold out chair with his gloved hands. Asami unbuttons his suit jacket and sat down. He crosses his legs then takes a few drag of smoke. Kenji immediately places a porcelain fruit bowl before him as a make shift ash tray.

The store owner tenses up in outrage and an ugly grimace graces his pinched features.

A hint of a smirk barely shows when Asami takes a final drag and toss the butt in the bowl. The glowing embers at the tail end held for a scant before it breaks off and fizzles out, marring the white paint.

The owner opens his mouth several times as if to say something. Asami didn't think the man was that stupid. He arched a brow to encourage him to try.

Instead the man finally closes his mouth and bide his tongue.

Disappointed, Asami lit up another Dunhill and takes a few more puffs before he sits the rest on the lip of the bowl, allowing it to burn itself out.

The other chewed his lip but continue to keep his mouth shut.

Without further ado, Asami began after ensuring he had the owner's rapt attention, his tone light as if talking about the weather.

"How did the boy came into contact with you?"

Though hesitant about the lead in, the owner sits forward then remembers himself and leans back just a tad before he volunteers the info.

"He… he came in here. Not long. Just… just over an hour ago."

Not a trace of his thoughts visible, Asami turns his gaze to Kirishima and nods. He then rests his hands to cross lay on his thighs, his gaze deliberately absent.

His secretary promptly steps forward to present a head shot of a smiling Takaba that is still kept on file from their first initial investigation.

"Is this the fellow?"

Recognition clearly lit the man's face. Asami had his answer.

"What was his business with you?"

The pause between them was much longer than anticipated. His hand flew across the table and thrashes the owner with the back of his hand.

Six bodies visibly tenses.

Asami releases a cruel smirk. He picks up the forgotten cigarette and takes a long drag then fixates a dull expression on the owner. He returns to his previous position and repeats himself, his tone remains light.

"What was his business with you?"

Flinching from the underlying threat of more violence, the owner quickly wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and began tripping over words to get them out.

One had to only stick a pig once to make it squeal.

"Th— th— that… that th— thief came in here and… and s— said he… he got st— stuff to unload. So… so I looked them over and p— paid for them. He left through the back alley. Th— that's all! I.. I swear!"

Unsure and doubly unhappy about the owner's choice of words, Asami allows a frown to mar his brow.

"Show me the items."

The owner was more than happy to get up and go get them, anything to create the distance between them, however a gloved hand pushed him back firmly on his seat.

The shop owner gulp then pointed a shaky finger to the countertop, where he last left them.

Curious, Asami turn his gaze to see what they were and spotted a familiar device. The lines between his brows deepen.

Kirishima caught on so he hands the briefcase over to Suoh and promptly signals Kenji to follow him, They both walk up to the counter and grab all the items before placing them on the table top. Kirishima takes especial care in retrieving the black camera and lenses before handing them directly off to his boss.

He took a long look at them as he inspected the items carefully. Asami was puzzled to say the least. He couldn't fathom Akihito ever parting his beloved camera willingly, let alone sell it. He even sold his newly acquired mobile.

His thoughts swirl with likely scenarios, none of them seem plausible. Asami raise his eyes and scan the other objects on the table with shrewd eyes. An electronic dictionary, pocket cameras, a handheld gamer, some music players, and few laser pointers? It was a motley crew of electronic knick-knacks. It was as if someone raided an electronic store and…

Now he knew what the owner meant.

The description didn't sit well with him, even in reference. He then nods at Kirishima and the secretary removes the camera and accessories back into its holder. His task completed, the man place the worn camera bag over his shoulder as if it was his own.

Meanwhile, Asami had picked up Takaba's phone and touched the dangle with a soft touch before he flips it open to check its log. There were some recent missed calls from two of his friends. Other than that, the phone was last used two weeks ago.

He absently places the phone in his inner breast pocket.

Asami then redirect his thoughts. Given the information thus far, the only conclusion he came up with is that Takaba was in desperate need of money, yet he didn't want to involve his friends and lover. The last part of his conclusion seem typical of the kid's past behavior, however it was the first half that didn't fit the mold.

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Where are your security tapes?"

Not wanting to be hit again, the owner tries to get up once more to show them but was promptly pushed back down again. He eagerly replies instead.

"It— it's in my office, at the back. Th—the feed streams a live copy into a back up hard disk. "

Asami recall from memory the layout of the store earlier and rose from his seat. He gave a nod to Kenji to follow. The guard at the back door straightens up as they both move pass him.

Kenji rattled the knob. It was locked.

Not bothering to waste more time, Asami waves Kenji to step aside moments before he thrust a forward kick and splinter the beams holding it up. The cheap door cracks, gives way and falls to the floor with a thud. Bits of wood and plaster splatter downward and dust the interior with a fine coat of white powder.

The security was deplorable. The four-by-four meter space was a sorry excuse for an office. It had enough room for a beaten old desk, a large metal file cabinet and an entire wall of shelves filled with what Asami assume as the more expensive items the owner had acquired. An ugly portrait of a woman, possibly the owner's mother or wife, hung behind the desk.

Asami succinctly dusts off his suit and walks to the desk. He eyes the computer and shakes his head in disgust at the further lack of security monitoring. The damn thing wasn't even user-locked.

He waved Kenji over to deal with it.

A few minutes later, his subordinate was able to retrieve the requisite file that had the time frame mentioned by the owner.

Asami signal Kenji to play the feed, his keen eyes never once leaving the face of his missing lover.

When Takaba moved off camera and disappeared towards the back exit, Asami was quick to direct Kenji.

"Check the feed from the camera on the back door."

The man quickly did as told. He closed the present file and launches another video segment continuing from the previous time.

Sure enough, it was as Asami suspected. A whole minute elapsed before Akihito exit through the door.

He gave Kenji further instructions.

"Now check the feed here using the previous time segment."

A mouse click later. Asami's eyes sharpen upon what he saw. He caught the look of astonishment on Kenji's face and tried to school his own features.

"Download those segments then scrub all traces of him and our time here."

"Yes, Asami-sama."

Asami gave the man a nod of approval before he turns around to walk back outside.

The rush of anticipation in the recapture of his lover was back. From what he'd seen in that few minutes, there was certainly something to be said about the amount of relish a person can enjoy in the hunt, especially when he wonders what other hidden talents has the kid managed to withhold from him.


	8. Caught Me

"It would be in your best interest to forget this entire evening, owner. Do not under any circumstances pursue the subject of tonight's meeting. Do you understand?"

Kirishima had given similar debriefings before. He was rather relieved to do so, given how the owner was one of the lucky few who survived an interrogation with Asami Ryuichi unscathed. The secretary suspected the light tap of Asami-sama's backhand was for show. If he was capable of blushing, his face would have showcased his folly.

Perhaps he may have over step in taking precautionary measures, but Kirishima believes in preparing for the worst case scenario. It would be suicide not to. Death in their business is a daily looming factor. He was slightly disappointed in his miscalculation of the boss' behavior. Though it only made him more determine to serve Asami-sama to the best of his abilities. He would leave the matter at that.

The owner, however, couldn't and spoke his grievances.

"B—but my camera and my door, they're—"

Kirishima's harden demeanor silenced the shop owner immediately.

The secretary was about to compensate the fellow accordingly but the greedy son-of-a-bitch beat him to it. He decided to extend his word of advice.

"The camera is confiscated for evidence."

He pauses, daring the fool to disagree.

The shop owner bit the inside of his cheek and gave a single firm nod.

Satisfied that he finally gain the man's obedience, a glint of malice reflected off Kirishima's glasses before he continues.

"As for your door…after having personally tested out your security, Asami-sama suggests you increase your vigilance. However, Sion group would oblige you in the near future with further testing if any word from tonight leaks out. A contract can be drafted against you post-haste. Be assured we would be quite thorough in our evaluation."

A quick swallow and a sloppy wipe of his sweating forehead later, the owner was quick to reply.

"Oh— oh, um… there's no need for that. I'm most thankful for Asami-sama's help and concern. But I wouldn't want to burden any further. Thank you for your visit."

And the man gave a formal deep bow before he straightens, turn about face and flew through the front door with a loud clack to shut it closed.

Satisfied with the outcome, the corners of Kirishima's lips lifted up just a miniscule. It was enough a telltale sign that cause Suoh's own stoic face to break. The man actually lifted a brow.

The world seems to have stood still.

A gust of wind wafted between the two. Both were caught in the act. Both didn't know what to do or what to say.

"I didn't pay you two to stare at each other. Get in, the both of you. There's been a sighting and I intend to catch my prey."

Flustered, Kirishima hurries to join Asami-sama in the black luxury sedan. Likewise, Suoh shakes off the expression and opens the driver side door. He straps in and awaits his order.

"To Club Fetish."

Both assistant swivel their heads to their boss. They couldn't have heard the man correctly.

Kirishima spoke the words for the both of them.

"…That is one of yours and is not known to the public. What would he be doing there sir?"

Asami-sama pauses to consider his response. The secretary had a feeling that the question was just as puzzling to his boss as it was to them. And his next word confirmed it.

"Indeed."

As the car sped off to its next destination. Asami couldn't help but ponder over the information he's learned thus far. This cat and mouse chase involving his lover didn't have the same flavor as their previous encounters. There was nothing usual about his movements. They were sporadic and digressing, as if no goal in mind. The whole disappearance act in itself was unfounded and pointless. Asami wasn't sure the boy was trying to evade him or some other criminal group this time. He wasn't even sure the boy was trying at all, though his people had a hard time trying to locate him for the past two weeks. However, now that he's thought about it, if they weren't looking for the usual patterns from previous experiences, mayhap Takaba wouldn't have been so hard to find.

What compounded his confusion further was seeing the boy on video. The break in facial expression caused him concern. That particular cunning look had never grace the boy's face before. Let alone him wearing it like an old pair of gloves. It made Asami question his own judgment regarding the harmless nature of the boy.

When Takaba moved about the shop, it causes Asami to further scrutinize his observation. There was something different about it. Gone was the athletic ease in the walk. In its place the steps taken were purposeful. And when the boy took his prize from the vault behind the picture and waltzed off in the alley, that swagger was undeniable.

It was not Takaba.

He didn't know what game the boy is playing. Or how he's managing to pull the wool over Asami's eyes for so long. The crime lord intends to catch his elusive lover and enjoy every minute of the interrogation. For one thing is certain, his interest is piqued.

* * *

 

It took him a bit of manipulation in asking the right people, for him to pick the right pocket and receive a membership card into Club Fetish. There’s similar establishments that cater to his type of needs, but none this discreet nor have services this spectacular.

She was a plump little thing. Not one of those skinny bitches and pubescent-looking boys that vied for his attention the minute he walked through the doors. He picked her out immediately and requested a private VIP room.

She was good. Cute even. The fuzzy fox ears worn with a tiara were almost believable. The buzzing fluffy tail she demonstrated the insertion earlier was of the few items she still wore. What turned him on the most were the gloved paws wrapped around the base of his member while her head bob expertly up and down. Her dimples would peak out every so often.

Ah! Almost there.

He'd never dreamt that his favorite fantasy was being enacted. What wonders Tokyo can offer. The young man was so enjoying his time.

Oh Kami, she is good!

One of his hands grip the side of the lounge sofa with intensity as his other hand tangled in her hair. Occasionally he would stroke the fur ears as if they were real and guide her movements to his liking.

He was very close.

Sweat drip down his temple as the young man bit his lower lip and closed his eyes in concentration. He writhes and jerks on the leather sofa.

Her efforts increase with the tempo of the background music.

He hardly notices.

It was within reach. He could begin to see the bright white blankness behind his eyelids. A few more pumps and he would…

Her movement stopped. More like someone had ripped the bitch off of him at a crucial moment.

A low growl emits from his throat.

His face flush, shirt and pants splayed open for all to see. He was the very picture of debauchery. He took a moment to compose himself.

The young man then releases a sigh, leans his head back and breathes in deeply. Slowly his lids rise to half mast and fell upon a pair of cold golden eyes.

The man better have a death wish.


	9. Who are You?

There were only two reasons why his lover would venture into Club Fetish: either to enjoy the amenities or to find someone.

In regards to the latter, since Takaba knows that Asami is owner to thirteen clubs (amongst other reputable and disreputable establishments) all scattered about Japan and most of them are in Tokyo, one may presume the photographer was looking for him in all likelihood. That presumption would have been baseless however. Fact is Takaba only knows for a certainty that Asami owns Club Sion. The kid also knows that Asami uses that particular club as his headquarters of sorts. Otherwise since they're living together, looking for Asami elsewhere besides their penthouse would have been a moot point.

But of course, if Takaba wasn't looking for him, then the kid could have been chasing someone else. Most likely for a story lead. This would have been the next logical leap. Again the fact is the only camera the photographer took with him is now in the custody of Kirishima. All other cameras the boy owns are kept safe and secure in Asami's penthouse. This the crime lord can vouch with a certainty.

Therefore if this is also true, the other recourse would have been Takaba was looking for a friend. This Asami can truly affirm without a doubt is not possible since he kept a close profile on all of his lover's friends and family. And since none of them are in his employ using their true name or least likely, an alias, this predicament was not possible either.

Thus, one can only conclude the least likely endeavor is the most likely path Takaba has taken.

As the name of Club Fetish states, the business it dealt with is exactly what it entails. It is an establishment whose membership is by invitation only, that is if one can afford the anonymity. For those who can, the amenities available are limitless and the people plying their trade, truly artisans at work.

It was one of Asami's most lucrative business ventures. And due to the A-list clienteles and the nature of their depravity, hidden security are a must.

Inside Club Fetish, there is a control room with two security guards. At all times must there be two in the room along with a security manager to make instant judgment if an altercation should arise and detainment necessary for some of the more overzealous clients. It was this team that alerted Asami immediately when they spotted Takaba Akihito saunter into the establishment.

Upon their boss' arrival, all three of them rose from their seats and Asami gave them a nod in greeting.

The security manager on duty was quick to get down to business.

"Takaba-san is in the Green VIP room sir. He requested Miyuki and Saiyuri pair to cosplay as Furry geishas. They're entertaining him currently Asami-sama."

In hearing this, Asami quickly move to see for himself and was baffled by the display shown on the fifteen inch screen.

In his line of business, nothing much surprises him anymore. So it wasn't the scene that had him raise a brow or two; it was Takaba's choice of fare. He'd thought he knew all of his lover's turn-on. It would seem Asami was mistaken.

After a few months of domesticity and two weeks of disappearance, his Takaba had suddenly develop a taste for Furry play? With women no less?

He would have laughed at the notion had he not seen two of his best duo combination team dressed as requested courtesy of their in-house designers and makeup artists. Both girls wore furry ears atop their heads and traditional geisha kimonos. Although instead of their faces being painted the normal pasty white with red lips, both girls sported a painted on nose and whiskers. Their makeup specifically outlines to resemble a canine of some type. Given the oddity of such a request, an amused Asami decides to see what fantasy had brought his Takaba into his neck of the woods.

His boy chose a plump woman. Asami never would have pegged her to be Takaba's type. The profile Kirishima gathered regarding his lover's past didn't demonstrate such an attraction. The photographer was fairly virginal upon their first encounter, a fact Asami still delight in till this day. The boy's one-time high school sweetheart only lasted two months and a few chaste kisses. The picture Kirishima uncovered in Takaba's yearbook show a cute girl who looks more like his brat's sister than would be lover.

Despite the inconsistency, what did surprise Asami was Takaba's choice of a woman if at all.

After Hong Kong, he'd thought they establish that his lover belong to him. That the undeniable attraction between them was mutual? That they were on a working relationship?

Once he's decided he wanted Takaba in his life, the choice was irrevocable. The boy belongs to him. Likewise the reverse is true. This was another setback Asami hadn't expected.

At the moment, he'll tolerate it. It was proving to be entertaining if not enlightening of the boy's recent chaotic behavior.

Currently Miyuki was entertaining Takaba with an intricate dance while Saiyuri expertly plays the koto in accompaniment. His boy seems to be enjoying himself as he lounge back on the leather sofa. The dance and open flirting was amusing at first until Takaba, midway through, demonstrated uncharacteristic aggressiveness.

Asami inadvertently moves forward to peer closer to what's happening. His boy all but tore Miyuki's robe leaving a few bleeding scratch marks on her body while keeping the furry ears and paw gloves intact. Saiyuri continues to play in the background, no doubt changing the tempo and feel of the music to match the scene.

Asami's amused smirk disappears and was soon replace by a scowl in light of Takaba's obvious arousal by Miyuki's skills. The boy's attraction to Fei Long, the crime lord can handle. This strange perversity was unusual given Takaba's nature.

After a few more minutes of watching, he had enough. This whole night didn't make any sense. Asami was eager to initiate their reunion and get to the bottom of this change.

* * *

 

The young man hated confrontations. He'd spent his whole life avoiding such niceties. He'd much prefer evasive subtlety. However, even he understands that certain situations require him to be direct. The man before him demanded no other recourse. Still, he would hate to end his play day so soon.

After eliciting a deep sigh of regret and loss, the young man reaches down and adjusts his deflated hard on back into his slacks. His keen eyes notices the glint of interest reflected off the golden pair.

A knowing smirk flits across his face before he makes a show of wetting his lips before speaking. His tone deliberately cocky at best.

"I paid cash for this 'show and tail' you know? I was assured no interruptions."

A manicured brow rose in response. Those cold eyes were defrosting and the young man dealt another card from his deck as he wait for a verbal reply.

He eased his posture to sink further into the seat as he braces both arms over the top of the sofa. The movement opened up his shirt even more, displaying his washboard abs glistening with sweat.

The scent of the other's arousal tickled his nose. Right on cue.

Asami couldn't believe the boy's audacity. To be able to affect such calm in the face of his wrath was new. More impressive still was his lover pretending not to recognize him.

What game was the boy playing?

The sheer amount of confidence oozing off of Takaba was intoxicating though. This change Asami liked. He decided to play along.

The older man moves his form to sit across from his lover, directly behind the closed door where Suoh stood guard. It was only the two of them. Both girls long since made their exits upon the boss' arrival.

Asami lean back on the seat and adopted a relax pose. He pulled out a Dunhill and lit the stick. The wispy smoke permeated the room. Oddly, Takaba's nose twitches in annoyance.

Asami consider the other a moment longer then spoke with much humor.

"That would have been the case have you been an actual member, Takaba."

The boy flashed him a toothy smile.

"You wouldn't count that against me would you, my friend?"

Asami pause briefly before he continues his motion and took a puff of his cigarette before his reply.

"That would depend."

"Oh?"

The boy acted surprise before he brushes his hair back then smoothly transitions the slow trail downwards to his neck, chest and finally waist. All in one tantalizing stroke.

The crime lord couldn't help but smirk at the display.

"Would you like to play a game?"

The response was genuine.

"I like games."

Asami took another puff.

"Good. Let's play a game of twenty questions then."

A pout surface and the boy playfully stroke his waist band.

"Questions? That's no fun."

Asami lower his gaze and slowly move them upwards to meet playful brown ones. His tone dropped a decibel.

"Anything can be made fun, Takaba."

The kid sat forward and flashes another toothy grin.

"I suppose. What's in it for me?"

He took some time to consider that question.

"At the end, if you answer all twenty questions truthfully, I'll forgive your trespass."

"How would you know if I'm not lying?"

"That's where the fun parts begin."

The other move to sit back against the sofa, seeming to consider his offer.

Asami continue to smoke.

"I don't think I'll like your game."

The crime lord affects a hurtful tone.

"What do you have in mind?"

The boy moves forward once more and reaches into his inside breast pocket.

Suoh immediately changes stance, the tension in his frame not so obvious. Asami kept his sharp eyes to mischievous brown ones.

A small deck of cards was pulled out and flashed proudly by the other with an arm outstretched directly in front of his face.

Asami raise a brow at the naked catlike looking drawing.

"Koi koi. Twenty rounds. Winner collects pot in a form of a question or request."


	10. On Your Mark

Asami-sama had instructed Kirishima to remain behind and observe. Ever the dutiful right hand man, the secretary follows the command to a T and has taken a front row seat to view the happenings within the Green Room. Neither the two security guards nor the security manager made a sound to disturb the other. The control room was in a complete study of concentration.

Minutes later, as soon as Asami-sama on the screen reached for his phone, Kirishima has his own place before his ready ears. He presses the receive button as soon as it begin to vibrate.

"It's me. Prep the Red Room for a game of Hanafuda. Have a dealer present."

The secretary was likewise to the point.

"It will be ready in ten minutes, Asami-sama."

The call ends as abruptly as it began.

Kirishima then swivel his chair about face and gave the exact instructions to the security manager, in addition to a few more details.

"I want the room wire tap ASAP. Bring in a male dealer, average build and plain-looking. Have the close up camera zoom in on Takaba-san from the dealer's perspective and activate the hidden camera on the card table facing the dealer. That is all."

The manager promptly made his bow of acquiescence and left to execute the secretary's order.

Kirishima swivel his chair back in place and flips a switch to route the Red Room display for his earlier setup. One of the security guards immediately hands him a head set.

After a brief sound check with the dealer in the Red Room and crossing out a mental checklist verbally, all was set. The secretary resumes his role as an observer.

* * *

 

The young man really did love games especially when his opponent looks as sharp as the man before him. This was going to be fun. It has been a while since he had a challenge.

"Shall we continue to the Red Room?"

He was game.

"Sure. Lead away."

The older man nods his head and proceeds to rise from his chair. Without prompting, the behemoth at the door opens it and waits for the young man to pass before he completes the procession heading out.

The young man counted his steps, make note of the number of turns and scan for an exit route all in the space of the few minutes they took.

The Red Room was aptly named; deep rich red tones punctuated the décor. There were no paintings or mirrors of any type. The room itself was half the size of the previous and seems to mete one function only: gambling. A card table befitting those found in a casino was at the center of the room. The oak wood stained a dark red color contrasted with the green felt carpeting the table. The markings on the felt outlined the card positioning for each player. Only two fitted leather seats were place before the plain-looking dealer.

The older man raises a hand and gesture him to take a seat furthest in. He obliged, mimicking the other's nod and gesture back for the older man to join him.

Just as they were getting comfortable, there was a brief knock at the door before the behemoth from before opens the door allowing a short stubby man to enter. The fellow inclines his head in greeting while carrying a tray of cards still wrapped in plastic.

The young man was quick to sound his disapproval.

"I thought we'll be playing with my deck?"

The short fellow turns to his boss, seeking approval before speaking. The man received a nod before proceeding.

"It is club policy to conduct all gambling games with the utmost fairness. Each Hanafuda set requires two color decks be placed in the auto shuffler. We apologize for any inconvenience."

The young man slouches back into his seat. He didn't like the control atmosphere one bit. It would dampen his abilities.

The tray was place beside the table and left of the dealer. With the hand-off complete, the stubby man does a full bow towards his boss once more before he dismisses his self out the door. The behemoth resumes his place outside of the room. It was only the three of them now. However, considering how one-dimensional the dealer's behavior was, they might as well be alone.

With a giddy laugh, the young man leans forward and claps his hands before rubbing his palms greedily against each other. He was eager to begin.

The dealer took that as his cue.

"Before we begin, gentlemen, please define your marker conditions."

That dampen the young man's spirit just a notch. He thought they were going to start playing. So he cried out a comment that sounded quite like a kid being withheld his favorite desert.

"More rules?"

The older man, if not anything else, is pretty consistent in his behavior. Nothing seems to faze him. The young man was tempted to try.

"Didn't I say, 'twenty rounds, winner collects the pot in the form of a question or request'? Isn't that enough?"

The young man is convinced the small grin aim his way was indulgent at best. He didn't like being patronized.

"As much as it pains me…"

Judging by the other's amusement clearly displayed via his eyes, he was far from feeling any pain. The young man's own were reducing to slits. He didn't like being trifled with. It was the reverse he enjoyed. Still, he bide his time and listen.

"I believe a clarification is in order. First off, all twenty rounds must be played. The first to back out, forfeits all monetary or conditional gain via a request."

The young man quickly nodded in agreement to hurry the other along.

"Secondly, one shouldn't ask for the impossible."

Again he nodded in agreement.

"Lastly, all payment must be made in full; however it must be made freely."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

The older man lit up another cigarette before he continues after a puff.

"Let's say for instance, you wish to have our dealer beheaded. That would have been an illegal request by rule number three. As it were, his life is not mine to give; he is merely at my employment. His permission would be required. I doubt he would agree to such a thing. However, if you wish for him to be fired, that can be arranged."

The young man took a minute longer than necessary to mull over what was left unsaid. This fellow is a crafty one. He'll have to add a few rules of his own to make it more interesting.

"Fine."

He pause a moment for affect then spoke with unhindered amusement.

"I have a few conditions too."

He waited to see the other's response. After taking another stinking smoke, the older man merely wave his hand, gesturing for him to continue.

"Dealer doesn't play. No cheapy calls. No wilds. Five point score and up. Combos only. The set ends after first koi-koi only when the points are over five. A draw is considered a set. Deal?"

The other seems to take forever to reply.

"I have a fourth condition to add."

Frustrated, the young man rolled his eyes and gave the older man a bored look.

"I expect a clean game."

His eyes rounded in surprise. He gave off a bark of laughter and carried on until his eyes water. He hadn't laugh like that in years. The other two remain stoic while he was tickled by the rule. Finally quieted, the young man flashes a genuine smile and said, "You have my word."

And the game commences.


	11. Hanafuda

Kirishima was beginning to form an opinion that as far as situations related to Takaba Akihito goes; these series of events were…the strangest yet. It was the best description he could come up with while observing the whole exchange between Asami-sama and his 'wife'. And seeing how the evening has turn out, things were about to get even…stranger, for the lack of a better word.

The secretary winces at his own limited imagination. He should definitely expound his vocabulary for a better description. However, that would have to wait.

He'd bear witness to many of the couples' silly escapades, fiery arguments, and numerous embarrassingly passionate encounters. Suffice it to say, he was expecting more of the latter given how Asami-sama had been so tense recently. This congenial conversation befits two strangers rather than lovers.

Initially, he'd thought it was all a joke carried too far by the brat. However, the kid was too good in staying 'in-character'. Takaba Akihito was never really good at lying, let alone suddenly becoming such a seasoned actor.

Kirishima briefly wonders what his boss thinks of all this.

Currently Asami-sama is playing along, even going as far as agreeing to a game of Hanafuda. Does the boss even know how to play such a common household game?

The secretary mentally shook his head of that notion. Of course Asami-sama would know, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to it in the first place.

However, the modified rules made by Takaba-san were uncommon to say the least. The object of the game is no longer to score the highest point total when all the rounds are complete. The new object is to accumulate more than five points before the other opponent does in order to win the match. Thus the weight of each match is equally as important.

What complicated the game further is the requirement for each player to make such a win via combination plays only. There are forty-eight cards per deck with two players vying for the same high stock cards. A player would only need to arrange one high scoring set before acquiring another one in order to win. That would be the ideal hand; although in all likelihood, the game is never played in such a way.

A player oftentimes would end up with a low scoring set by calling the first chance he gets to win the low scoring set. Only when a player is low on points do they say koi koi to extend the game in order to score more points from an additional set. In this scenario, one would be calling koi koi most likely for every hand.

Strategy is required to not only block your opponent from a win, but also increase your odds of forming high scoring sets. And since Takaba-san didn't mention anything of limiting multipliers, the player can utilize those conditions to maximize low scoring sets as well.

Ultimately though, luck is the deciding factor. Either that or one need to learn how to count cards.

Kirishima was confident his boss would have the advantage. After all, as far as Asami-sama is concern, his memory is flawless.

The cards dealt him were decent.

The young man has several key cards at the ready to form high scoring set plays. He toys with the idea of showing off his skill, and then decides to forfeit the win after a few botched discards. He wanted to see what was on the other's agenda.

Another match later, the older man completes his combo as expected.

The dealer declares the match.

"Boar Dear Butterfly and Earth combo. Six points total. Boss wins."

The young man didn't have to wait long for his answer.

The older man takes his time to expel the dirty smoke from his lungs and staunches the butt into an ash tray. He then sits back in his leather chair and takes a long look at the younger man. His eyes piercing and full of heat.

"Remove your shirt and jacket."

The young man fought back a grin. In this category, the old lecher is certainly predictable. He didn't mind whether the other was distracted or not and decided to reward the man with a little show. The young man strip his jacket off with ease, follow by slowly removing his inner shirt. Both expensive garments were dropped to the floor without care.

He makes a point to stretch his back while flexing his limbs. The gentle chill from the air conditioning aided in brushing his bare nipples into hard nubs. The young man couldn't help but quip, "Is strip Hanafuda what you have in mind?"

The other was quick to repartee.

"I do prefer to look upon you this way, yes."

And the older man indeed eyed him thoroughly.

Curious, the young man teases back, "Should I worry about my pants next? I might not be willing on that score."

"I much prefer the latter half to be voluntary then."

The grin he held back broke out. He shook his head at the other's sheer perversity. He must admit the allure of this particular body was what caught his attention too. He hadn't thought to captivate men as well. It was time to find out more about this interloper and what sort of threat is he. Perhaps he would only need to flirt his way out.

The dealer had already restocked the cards and shuffles them. The second game has begun. This time around, the young man was eager to win. All three cards to complete the Blue Scroll set were in his hand. He only needs to build a second easy set in order to complement the win.

"In that case… koi-koi."

Having matched all his cards prior, he draws then smiles before throwing the card down. This round was his.

"Blue Scroll Basic combo. Six points total. Takaba-san wins."

He would have rubbed his hands together with glee but chose to mimic the other's cool vibe instead. His voice did let slip his amusement though. He couldn't help that part of the charade even if he tries. Their banter thus resume without a hiccup.

"As much as I would like to oblige you and perhaps return the favor, I'd much prefer you clothed. Unless you might be more appealing if you have fuzzy ears. You know what, why don't you wear a pair of those for me?"

Besides one raise brow, it was all the reaction he got.

The older man pulls out his mobile device once more and gave the instruction in a manner one would request for tea or something likewise.

"It's me. Bring a pair of furry ears."

In less than a minute or two, said item is brought in on another silver tray by the same stubby man from earlier.

The older man took the proffered ears and without preamble places them atop his head. Despite how ridiculous the idea of such a powerful man wearing such an item was, oddly seeing the black fluffy ears somehow complemented the daunting figure even more so. At least the instant sweat drop forming on the employees present sure indicated they feared the man.

The other's countenance remains stoic however. He even relaxes back into his chair and waves a hand in dismissal. The behemoth bodyguard and deliverer were swift as they made their exits once again.

The older man's nonchalance took the fun out of his sails. Just a tad. It still tickled him silly seeing such a sight though. He hopes, the other is fuming inside at the least.

He adds a verbal jab to increase the humiliation.

"There, much more becoming, but sadly you still don't appeal to me."

The man is quick to gain advantage.

"Shall I remove them?"

He chuckles in good humor and replies simply, "Not a chance."

Another reshuffle. The young man made quick work and won the round in six moves.

"Red and Blue Scrolls combo. Ten points a total. Takaba-san wins."

"Impressive."

The younger man grins.

"Looks like Lady Luck is on my side, my friend."

"The name is Asami Ryuichi in case you've forgotten. And I believe it is too soon to tell."

So his name was Asami. He was careful earlier, trying not to reveal his lack of recognition. The other had called him by name after all. Friends they certainly weren't after having the girl ripped off of him in such a manner. The other demonstrated a strong sense of familiarity or possessiveness if he weren't mistaken. He didn't know what type of relationship the owner of this body had had with Asami, the sexual interest from the other was certainly palpable.

"Well then Asami-kun, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

The older man props one elbow on the armrest before anchoring his chin with his thumb and index finger. Golden eyes narrow to slits.

"Isn't that a blanket request? Must I remind you the rules, Takaba?"

Surprise by the instant challenge, the young man was quick to explain.

"Not at all. I was going to elaborate. Remind me again, what do you do?"

"Is this your scheme of engaging me into revealing all my secrets?"

Oh. The word 'secrets' made him curious.

"Now why would I do that?"

"You ARE a photojournalist, Takaba."

Oh right. He'd forgotten about that. Somewhere in the long pile of crap he discarded at the pawn shop lies a photo ID hidden in the camera bag. Specifically his identification for some newspaper company or other. He hadn't given that much thought. He could have kicked himself on that account.

"Ah, well. I would have said reveal your secrets to me wouldn't I? Besides, I don't have my gear with me. So humor me. Feel free to express your true nature."

The other acquiesce readily.

"Very well. I am an entrepreneur. Trade is my business."

When Asami didn't elaborate, the young man was quick to call foul.

"I suspect you're leaving many things out."

Those golden eyes shimmer with amusement.

"You're question did not express details."

He snorts. Asami may have been a lawyer prior to becoming an entrepreneur. He too can play the word game.

A long volley of moves later, they were down to a few cards left on the draw pile. Both Asami and the young man have a few combos and had each declared koi-koi. Neither had any sets that were high scoring to win the match. Each was counting on the next draw.

It was the young man's turn. Lady Luck was certainly favoring him tonight.

"Scroll Earth Basic medley combo. Three points with two times multiplier. Six points total. Takaba-san wins."

"Well then, let me rectify that. As it is my call, I wish to learn 'in detail' about your business. And this time, be more descriptive."

Despite having lost three matches, Asami's indifference remain intact. The man lit up another cigarette. He couldn't help the grimace that form on his face upon breathing that foul stench once more. It was one of the drawbacks of having an extremely good sense of smell.

"As you wish. The trade I conduct can be dissected into two groups, taxable and non-taxable. My public domain consists of the entertainment variety. Likewise, my private endeavors is of the country building persuasion."

He'd suspected as much. The young man's imagination was running wild with possibilities with what that last sentence hinted at. Instantly, weapons came to mind. Mercenaries for hire was another. Assassins, maybe? Of the lesser evil choice, real estate tycoon possibly? Or a loan shark even?

"That still doesn't explain exactly what you do."

"Complex business models often are confusing to outsiders. In all that matters, my work can be sum up as the business of influence."

Ah. More word play. Possible interpretation means he's not your average run of the mill typical business mogul. He liked that. Raw power all hidden beneath a polite polish exterior.

The young man makes a comment in reference to his own thoughts, but the other need not know the reference.

"Now THAT I can understand perfectly. And seeing how popular and crowded your clubs are, I suppose business is booming?"

"But of course."

The game had already restarted amidst their chat when the dealer announces, "Red Scroll Moon combo. Ten points total. Boss wins."

The young man berated himself for not paying attention. He could have prevented that win.

"I haven't seen you around recently, what have you been up to?"

Derision was clear in his response to the simple inquiry.

"Was that my question or are we making small talk?"

Asami remains unflappable however.

"Take it as you will."

He took a moment to concoct a half truth story, wondering briefly why the other would be interested in where he's been. It was a waste of a win on his book.

"I've been out of town. Just came back from up North on a visit. Always been too cold for my taste. I much prefer the robust city life."

Asami nods absently at his short narrative even though his golden eyes never once leaving his brown ones. It was a bit disconcerting considering how nonplussed the topic was in the scheme of things. He quickly broke eye contact with one set and met a pair of another.

"Takaba-san, would you like something to drink?"

It took him a few seconds to realize he had been spoken to by the furniture. Ever since he's been in the room, the plain-looking dealer had been stock still for so long despite actively dishing out cards and stating the status of the game. The man might as well have been an automaton for all the attention he was getting.

The young man recovers himself and considers the offer.

"A drink sounds great. I am a bit parched."

"What would you like, sir?"

That question had his ears perk up at attention.

"Hmm. Do you have any sake?"

"Yes. The Club has a variable selection. What type would you prefer?"

"It's been a while so I'd like some of your best Taruzake."

"As you wish."

The dealer than quietly walks to the door. The behemoth was quick to intercept the approach. They converse in low murmurs. He overheard nonetheless and was please by the swift service. He couldn't wait to have of taste of sake. His last cup was at a ceremonial opening.

The bodyguard brings out a mobile phone and moments later, in walks the stubby man once again. He brings over a small cherry wood side table between the two leather seats and places the silver tray atop it. The man then pours the chilled sake into two box shape wooden cups.

"Our best chilled Junmai Taruzake. Gentlemen, please enjoy."

He gives his boss another low bow before exiting once more. Both the bodyguard and dealer had return to their former posts.

Despite his eagerness to have a taste, he waited for the other first. It wasn't out of politeness but self preservation.

Asami gestures for him to take a cup then raises his own to his lips. The older man takes a small sip. He waits for the telltale swallow before attacking the sake with gusto, draining the liquid in one gulp.

The aged brew warm his innards and heated his body wonderfully. The cool breeze from the AC hardly felt at all.

Asami pours him another, never once leaving his cup empty. The game resumes.

Warm and fuzzy, despite being half naked, the young man felt on top of the world. He was one card away from completing another combo.

"Koi-koi."

He draws. Match point.

"Rainy Four Scroll combo. Eight points total. Takaba-san wins."

He couldn't help but grin at his continue good luck despite his earlier worries about actually keeping his word instead of relying on his usual bag of tricks.

"Ah, looks like it's my turn again. You really have no luck in this game, Asami-kun."

The older man takes another sip from his cup and replies, "Perhaps."

Though he may be enjoying his time, the young man had not forgotten the reason why he was here in the first place.

"Let's get this part out of the way then. Don't really want to have the gloom of doom looming over our little game, right?"

Asami merely nods.

"I would like to walk out of here without any repercussions from you and yours for all offenses I may have committed in the past or present."

"You have my word."

Now that that was out of the way, he can focus on figuring out Asami's intent on his person. The other's lack of aggressiveness to take their previous flirtation to the next level had made him curious. By his judgment, the older man was not the timid kind. Unless, of course, the man prefers his prey to fall completely head over heel by the old fashion method of wooing. The challenge, he supposes, was to completely win him over.

Perhaps Asami may have made some leeway with the former owner of his body, perhaps they already have a relationship, or perhaps the man still hasn't tasted the fruit of his labor just yet. The young man is inclining to believe it was the latter. Men like Asami wouldn't continue to harbor such open lust for a prey he's already sampled. They tend to move on to the next conquest soon after.

He decided to goad the other into making a move by making short work of the next game.

"Moon Blossom combo. Ten points total. Takaba-san wins."

"I would like that girl to finish up my blowjob if you don't mind?"

He wanted to see another outburst. Surprisingly, none came.

Asami calmly takes out his mobile and presses a speed dial.

"It's me. Have Miyuki return to complete her task."

He didn't hang up as abruptly as before. With his good hearing, the young man overheard why. He wonders briefly what Asami would say differently. The other's next words did make him smirk with a knowing grin.

"She is occupied with another client at the moment."

So Asami was capable of telling the truth. Still, that doesn't mean he won't take a rain check just to tweak the other further.

"After our game then?"

"But of course."

The next round of cards was dealt out swiftly. The young man didn't have any key cards whatsoever. It didn't mean he couldn't win, however he did promise not to cheat. That rule still had him tickled. No one had ever outright called him on that before. He's beginning to like this Asami.

Not in that way of course. He may have enjoyed the encounter with that girl name Miyuki dressing up as a crossbreed. Some of his older brethrens till this day still calls them hanyou or half demon. That way of thinking was outdated, he would like to believe he's much too modernize to care about such things. However, that doesn't mean he would attempt another much more frown upon taboo by actually doing it with a male human. Although picturing this body of his tangling with the older male had him intrigued. Just a tad.

"Koi-koi."

Oh. His head perk up. So Asami already has a set. Might as well let him have the win. He didn't have any good cards anyways.

"Five Light Earth combo. Eleven points total. Boss wins."

Not bad the young man thought. It was the best scoring combination yet.

Asami pauses to refill his cup. The young man in turn refills the others before he took a sip, wondering briefly what angle the man will go for this time.

The older man display none of his intent, although the slight tilt of the other's lips hinted all too clearly what Asami had in mind.

"Since you've came back to town, where will you be staying? I can drop by to catch up. Take you out for dinner perhaps?"

That had him laughing. The man wasn't subtle at all. The older man did remind him of that fact that he indeed needed to seek shelter. He wasn't the least worried however. The money he'd stole from the pawn shop owner should be enough to get him into one of those four stars hotel maybe. He hadn't really thought that far into his escapade.

Without further contemplation, the young man threw out the proverbial fishing line. He hopes he looks sincere enough. He had never tried that expression before until now.

"I'm flattered by your attention, but I would have to decline."

If he wasn't looking close enough, the young man may have missed the other's jaw being set. Ah. He'd just hit a nerve. Good.

"Understandable, but you have yet to answer my question, Takaba."

He tried his best to repress a smile and maintain the sincerity on his face before replying.

"That is true… however since I haven't made plans yet for the night, I honestly don't have a location to give you."

A smirk of confidence don the other's lips.

"Hmm. Perhaps I can interest you to stay at my penthouse then?"

Oh. He hadn't expected such a bold move considering the other haven't even tried anything beyond smooth pickup lines. He was almost convinced that Asami needed to improve his skills in the romance department.

The young man cast his eyes downward for a moment then lookup with a half smile.

"I thought only one question per win?"

The other return his half smile and golden eyes lit with humor once more.

"Let me apologize, the offer was given in the spirit of the conversation and not a formal inquiry."

"Alright. Well, I'll have to think about it. And maybe, IF you happen to win another round, I might give you an answer to that question."

"Take all the time you need."

The dealer had already reset for the next match. He was determining to win the next round just to mess with Asami. The young man had already declared koi koi. Two key cards that would complete the Moon set were out on the stock pile and he had no matching pair. The play was too tempting to resist.

It was Asami's turn. He discards both moves, which means he has no matching cards either.

The young man considers his odds and decides to apply his trade. He may have promised a clean game which in his book only meant no obvious tricks. However, he most certainly did not promise he couldn't use a bit of the occult. With such logic, he discretely wrinkles his nose. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and crinkles with energy.

It was his turn. He picks up the first moon. Then draws for the second.

"Blossom Moon combo. Ten points total. Takaba-san wins."

Smug with his accomplishments, the young man flash a wide grin before he tilt his head sideways and gave Asami a good long look.

"You know, I find it odd."

The older man tilt his own head in acknowledgement. Asami's eyes were sharp with interest.

"You certainly show interest in me, yet you've haven't taken any advantage of your winnings. Why is that?"

Asami drains his cup before replying with a question.

"Have I offended you?"

"No. I'm just curious."

Intense golden eyes bore into the younger man. Oddly, he felt a chill crawl up his spine. He tore his eyes away in the disguise of refilling the older man's cups. He didn't understand the sudden change. The man's mood were as mercurial as they come.

Abruptly, Asami rises from his seat and tore off the furry ears. He then tosses them on the card table, sending the few cards laid out flying in disarray. The older man then directs a glare at the dealer and sends the man darting out the room in haste. The bodyguard at the door changes position to block the exit. No one was coming in or going out.

The young man hated confrontations. He rose from his seat as well. Mindful of the other's reach, he steps back a few paces. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

"I thought we've moved beyond games, Akihito."

That caught him off guard. That simple statement gave so much away. The young man wasn't stupid. A man, any man doesn't call another male so intimately without it meaning something. Shit. He'd certainly read the relationship wrong from the start. He quickly hatches a different exit strategy.

He wasn't trying to goad the older man, but it was time to get out of dodge. Buying time, the young man pose the obvious statement.

"I suspect you’re withholding some pertinent information from me."

His hands were getting sweaty. Shit.

He widens his stance then wipes both hands on his slacks before discretely concealing them at an angle. His open palms facing each other. Concentrating his energy, he barely heard the other spoke.

"Nothing that isn't public knowledge."

Asami's tone broke no argument. The man takes a step forward. Shit. It was taking longer than normal to pool. His body tenses with the effort. He needs more time and backs another step.

He murmurs quickly.

"I don't like that answer. It tells me nothing."

That reply somehow stops the older man's advance. Those cold eyes soften. His tone etched with a hint of concern.

"Are you...claiming memory loss?"

He knew it was an out. A way for him to continue this charade until it was safe to take his leave. He had no interest in playing this man's lover however.

The chant was almost complete. The young man didn't waste his breath for a reply.

That chiselled jaw, harden. Asami continues his advance.

"Come here, Akihito."

He felt the surge. Bright black light crackles between his fingers. A swirling gray orb, the size of a large marble appears into his right hand and the young man raises his head, and then smirks.

"I rather not."

He abruptly throws the object down. It cracks on impact, sending the Red Room to engulf in a cloud of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Frankly I've never written this much dialog between the two before. It has been a strange endeavor to come up with their conversation material. Towards the end, I've realized I have to outfox a fox through Asami written from the fox's perspective! That had me reeling from the magnitude of brain power I had to use in my writing. So each request or question has a purpose for Asami to clue in on the puzzle pieces. You get to read his thoughts next chapter.
> 
> As for the game, there are quite a few ways to play it. The one I'm familiar with is the Hanafuda game played in the animated movie "Summer Wars." Wonderful movie, love the underline commentary on the dangers of social networking interlinking the security measures of personal information. (I know, shameless of me to plug a promo for one of my favorite anime.) I liked it so much, I got hooked in playing the game.
> 
> All my score counts and combo names are base upon the rules from Nintendo DS 'Clubhouse Games – Hanafuda'. Please do a Wiki search if you wish to learn more about the game play, otherwise take my description as is. I hope I do the game justice.


	12. Reel the Clip

If both men look like two drown rats the cat drag in, no one dare comment aloud.

With utmost professionalism, Kirishima school his expression as soon as the boss and bodyguard step into the borrowed Club Manager's office. Two male attendants were light on their feet as they assist Suoh-san and Asami-sama out of their drench clothing and into already prepared dry replacements.

The secretary waits patiently; his outward appearance impeccable, although one wouldn't have guessed he directed a flurry of activities just moments ago.

* * *

 

As if watching straight out from a cheesy D movie, the ninja style smoke bomb Takaba Akihito delivered out of nowhere instigated a series of events. The diversion did its trick. When the smoke hit the detectors, the sensors activated the localized sprinklers. Thankfully, each room's response is independent of the others. Kirishima immediately went into action. He ordered the facility manager via the headset to have the ventilation in the Red Room reversed to divert the smoke out of the building. He then mobilizes the on-call security team to have the boy's escape stymied. Guards were dispatch at the Club entrance and the back fire escape routes posthaste.

Meanwhile his eyes never left the monitor. He knew the plot and wasn't fooled by the smoke screen. It took a few minutes, but once the smoke cleared, the images on the panel became clearer. Two people drench to the nines and coughing excessively, remain. Neither of them was Takaba Akihito.

Once confirmed, Kirishima refocus his eyes to scan the other monitors. He motions with his hand to the two present security guards to do the same.

"There, sir! Camera 13 and 14, main gallery."

Kirishima darted his eyes to the specified panel. A large blur was speeding down the main gallery. He blinked twice, his brows creasing inward before they unfurl. In the direction the blur was heading, it led to the employee staff access directly to the kitchen. His instincts kicked in and expediency made his orders terse to the on call security staff over the mic.

"Unit one, move in to block the kitchen loading dock now! Deny all access until further notice. Unit two, close in the main gallery towards the staff’s kitchen. Intercept a shirtless man in his early twenties. He's fast. Stay sharp. Detain him with any means possible, but do not harm him. I repeat, do not harm him. All other units converge at the scene to assist."

Satisfied with his quick thinking, Kirishima pushed his slipping eyeglasses back up with a middle finger at the bridge of his nose. It was a matter of time before that blur was captured. He knew that must be Takaba Akihito. It had to be. Strangely, the boy was inhumanly faster than the frame capture speed of the cameras. Due to lag perhaps. Still, there was no way Takaba-san could slip past the Club's tight security.

He stared intently at the screen. The blur stopped briefly at the double doors leading to the kitchen. A shirtless Takaba Akihito swiftly pushes through.

Kirishima flip a few switches to change the feed targeting the kitchen area onto the main monitor. He wanted a bigger view. His team should be in place by now. Takaba-san was as good as captured.

The screen flickered briefly before the scene in the kitchen unfolds.

It must have been only a minute tops, but unit two members were already down on the floor not moving. The kitchen staffs were scurrying about in confused chaos. Sweat drops beaded at his temple. Kirishima frantically sorts out the moving bodies in search of the photographer.

Takaba-san couldn't be located. He tried the intercom in desperation.

"Unit two is down! Unit one, do you copy?"

Nothing but static greeted him.

* * *

 

"Kirishima, report."

Those oh-so-familiar words shook him out of his musings. Asami-sama and Suoh-san have finished changing their suits. Both men have dismissed their attendants and have taken their respective positions, with Suoh-san by the office entrance and Asami-sama at the seat in front of the desk.

The look on both men's faces would have intimidated most. He could understand why. The preemptive shower could sour anybody's mood, let alone these two studious men. For a certainty, Kirishima knew one of their looks was going to be somewhat fiercer, if that was even possible, before the night is over.

Preparing himself, the secretary imparted the news.

"Water damage has been contained to the Red Room only and was kept to a minimum. Hashimoto Constructions has been contacted to begin remodeling first thing tomorrow morning. That section will have to be cordon off until all repairs have been mitigated. Estimated time of completion will be four days. Normal Club operations would not be hindered."

"So long?"

Kirishima glance briefly at Asami-sama's face. He knew his carefully chosen words weren't capable of masking that little fact. He cleared his throat before resuming his report.

"After the kitchen staff vacated, further inspection indicates reparation must be made to patch up the holes on the walls and ceilings. Luckily the gas line was left unscathed although a few major appliances were damaged. These items will need to be replaced. Orders have already been made, sir."

The silence was expected. What was left unsaid had the secretary waiting in anticipation of Asami-sama's wrath. He knew no amount of rewording could have missed that big of an elephant, for lack of a better description.

The tension in the lines of the boss' face was quite pronounced. In fact, if he was brave enough, Kirishima could almost make out a vein at Asami-sama's temple throbbing steadily.

At last, the man spoke. The secretary quickly unfocused his attention.

"They shot at him."

It wasn't a question. The clench fist atop the desk demonstrated the boss' wishful enactment of said violence against the perpetrators spoke clearly enough. Kami knows, he'd bear witness to more than one bystander who's received the brunt of Asami-sama's rage looking for an outlet. Takaba-san's rescue from Hong Kong could have easily been a massacre if the boss had free reign.

Kirishima swallowed a gulp before continuing. He wasn't planning to champion the security team, but he couldn't let them take the fall either.

"Not intentionally, Asami-sama."

The full force of that pregnant pause that came afterwards along with the boss' direct glare caused him some anxiety. However, having been on the receiving end on many occasions throughout the years provided the secretary a small level of immunity. Still, like clockwork, the goose bumps at the back of his neck peppered up and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Explain."

That singular word held more weight and responsibility than any other. Kirishima knew he had to tread carefully to save the security team from a literal firing squad. He forcefully relaxes his stance and specifically changes his tone.

"The unexpected resistance and struggle raised, elevated the misfiring, sir."

That statement got him a brow raised from Asami-sama. Good. The boss was intrigued.

"How so?"

To make the situation lighter, Kirishima affected a cough and raise a hand to adjust his glasses before directing the topic further.

"Ahem. Unit two was provoked, sir."

Both brows were raised immediately upon the boss' realization behind his words. Kirishima silently release a sigh of relief.

"You mean to tell me, Takaba initiated it?"

He wasn't lying when he decided to played up Takaba-san's role in the matter.

"Yes sir."

The boss actually pushes back from his seat behind the borrowed desk and a thoughtful frown cross his face.

"Bring him in here now."

There was no way around it. Kirishima took a quick intake of breath and rapid fire his responses.

"That is impossible, Asami-sama."

"If he's injured –"

"He escaped, sir."

"Then the medical staff dispatch –"

"—was for the security team, sir."

"Kirishima, no more interruptions."

"Yes, sir."

He received a pointed look for that rejoinder. Out of the corner of his eyes, the secretary could have sworn he saw Suoh-san actually smirk at him. Kirishima turns his head slightly to catch a better look at the rare sight. The expression disappears the moment Suoh-san caught him gawking.

"You mean to tell me, not only have Takaba escaped, but he injured all my security team members in the course of a few minutes?"

The secretary immediately returns his attention towards the boss. They were back into familiar, less volatile territory.

"Not all, sir. Unit three is in pursuit as we speak. Unit four remains unharmed and on call. "

"Show me."

"As you wish, Asami-sama."

Kirishima anticipates this request. He presents a remote from his coat pocket and pressed a button. A hidden horizontal slot on the ceiling panel flips open from behind him. The slight buzzing of electrical motors twirl to a stop when the forty inch LED screen fully descended.

With some quick editing, he had the security manager prepare a brief clip of the night's events from various camera perspectives. He chose not to narrate and allow the images to speak for them.

The boss watches in silence. His stoic face gave no hint of his thoughts.

A few minutes in, a movement from the bodyguard's end caught his attention once more. Kirishima turn his head towards Suoh-san and discovers another rare expression upon the older man's normally stone demeanor. He couldn't put a description at first. It was a cross between a scowl and distaste or perhaps constipation. The secretary quickly shook his head of that connecting image.

For the first time in so many years, the secretary wants privy to Suoh-san's thoughts on the matter more than Asami-sama's. That odd look somehow disturbed Kirishima more than the images of Takaba-san kicking security butt like one of those big budget Hong Kong kung fu movies on screen, even after knowing it was done without those special affect wires.

It was another few minutes before the clip faded and he turn off the screen.

Despite his mental toe-tapping, Kirishima maintain his relax stance and waits patiently.

Asami-sama had risen from his seat and quietly moves to the mini bar located at a corner of the office. The boss pours himself a full tumbler then tosses the amber liquid down like it was a shot of whiskey. Internally, the secretary winces in reaction to such an abuse. The second tumbler the boss poured didn't raise the same treatment.

The man took the glass in hand and quietly walks toward the wall to floor window behind the desk, overlooking the meat packing district. Kirishima knew this pattern well and began to gather his thoughts. Any moments now, the boss would ask a variable of questions and he would offer a variable of suggestions and solutions. In this case, despite the oddity of Takaba-san's behavior, the cat and mouse pattern was a signature category he was most familiar with. It was a game they all play well.

So it never ceases to amaze him when Asami-sama makes a comment that challenges all his preconceived notions.

"So Kirishima, what do you think of our little imposter?"


	13. Flight or Fight

He skid around a corner and threw himself against the stone surface, taking a moment to catch his breath. His heart was pounding a mile a minute against his ribcage as if trying to escape. There is something to be said about the thrill of the chase. He couldn't believe he got away. The feeling was exhilarating. He felt giddy being drunk on adrenaline.

The freezing cold on his bare torso did nothing to cool his ardor. This body he'd chosen seems to thrive on it, offering his powers flexibility in ways he'd never imagine possible. And all this time, he'd been restraining his usage. He felt laughter bubbling to the surface and tried as he might to staunch the sound with a hand over his mouth.

Shuffling noises a few blocks from his location caught his attention. The young man peeks around the corner. A singular floodlight a building away, the only illumination closest to him, did little to reveal his location. In fact, he counted on the fact that one needs a period of adjustment for their sight to transition from light to darkness that he felt secure in his hiding place.

His pursuers were like hounds after his scent, sniffing around every blind corner and dark hidey hole. Unlike the real deal, their scent of smell is worthless. Otherwise those foul humans wouldn’t bathe themselves in those dreadful artificial smells.

There were three of them. Thugs in fine thread. His keen eyes caught a glint of metal. They were packing heat too like the others he took down. One even had it drawn despite the other two urging him to stow it away judging by their frantic gesticulations and what little he could overhear.

Perhaps they were ordered not to hurt him after all. The young man wonders briefly before he decides to err on the side of caution. This body may be the lover of that Asami fellow, but he wasn't about to assume those thugs out their give a shit. Those men from earlier (to whom he had enjoyed thoroughly kicking the crap out of) had pull guns on him too. Perhaps he should demonstrate to the remaining three what a creature like him is capable of. Then perhaps Asami might leave him be, or not. It matters little to him.

He'd given himself another week for this sojourn vacation before his den mates will notice he's gone missing. The young man wasn't about to cut his time short just because of a bad case of mistaken identity. He'll just have to go to another city that was not run by this Asami.

Alas, these guard dogs must be dealt with though.

The young man pulls his head back and scans his current surroundings. His eye sight may not be like he's use to in his other form, but he could see in the dark better than most humans.

Nothing but a large dumpster bin, a dozen wooden crates and cardboard boxes, all push up against a chain link fence in disarray. His eyes squinted in the dark. Ah, don't forget the rusty padlock and scurrying strays. He licks his chops at the scent of their fear. If he was in his other form, those oversize rodents wouldn't stand a chance. As a human though, he has no taste for them.

Anyhow, just his luck, the alley wasn't a thoroughfare. He's boxed himself in. How cliché could it get?

Now there were two choices in his book one in his situation could do: fight or flee.

Back at the Club, he had no choice really but to fight his way out. They were blocking his path after all. It was only courteous of him to clear it. Now this is a different matter.

The fun choice would probably be option one. This time though he could extend the fight by toying with them. However that means he could run the chance of actually getting caught, although it wasn't likely that any of those thugs could best him seeing as how the others couldn't last two minutes despite the waning level of his powers.

His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. His canines gleam even in the dark with the pale waxing moon providing the strongest source of light.

The young man closed his eyes and called forth his powers once more; brows creased with concentration as he focuses his energy and began chanting in a language long forgotten by these humans. Energy began pooling from his core and lashes out to his extremities like viperous cords. Beads of sweat budded on his expose skin and evaporate as the energy continues to build and crackle in discharge.

His ears twitch in alert. He could hear their steady footsteps getting closer. Those thugs were lingering half a block away and inching closer.

It shouldn't have taken this long. Something wasn't right. He had a suspicion as to the cause.

Without hesitation, he dispenses the pent up energy elsewhere and redirects it at the moon with a twirl of his wrist, channeling a response.

Like ripples on water, an image, just as transparent, appears with seamless edges. He opens his lids and bit out a curse.

There, before his eyes, like a movie projector screening on the surface of the moon, shows an image of another chase taken place miles away. The white blankness, roughen by billowing gusts of snowflakes, couldn't mask the silver creature frantically charging heedlessly into the barren terrain. Red droplets inked a trail behind him, marking his trespass clear as day.

The young man bit out another curse under his breath. He knew he should have put the damn brat in a cage and provided him with several weeks' worth of food. Instead, he'd been generous and deposits his counterpart near a nice residence. What was the fool thinking going out and about in the dead of winter?

He waves a hand to wipe the image in dismissal, his thoughts already redirecting another course of action now that option one was out of contention. He needs to rescue the fool before the brat gets them both killed. Anxious, he sends a brief prayer to Inari to watch over the both of them.

Now then to address the matter at hand: a dead end, three thugs, and a gun drawn. What was a creature like him to do? He's already broken several rules, what was a few more? A mischievous thought briefly crosses his mind and he initiates it without hesitation.

 

* * *

A peel of laughter, haunting with an undertone of malevolence echoes down the alleyway. The members of unit three felt a chill ran down their spines. Simultaneously, two of them gave a shiver and look at each other nervously. The third member felt only renew resolve and remove the safety off his semi-automatic. That move caught the attention of the other two.

"Toyo! What do you think you're doing! Put that gun away!""

Said man, whose relative wiry frame according to his coworkers could rival a professional bodybuilder in size if he were only to eat more, ignore the command entirely. Both his hands remain holding his gun steady, keeping the barrel pointing towards the ground before him. His eyes scanning left and right while searching for anything out of the ordinary. Steadily they charge forward to where the laugh may have originated.

"Toyo, we were told not to harm the client. So put the damn gun away now!"

Toyo's sight never left the darken alley when he finally answer his friend and colleague.

"Fuck that, Ucchi. What does a secretary know anyways? That rogue client took out Kasaragi, Junpei and the others like they were pachinko balls. I ain't taking my chances."

It wasn't Ucchi but Mamoru who responded. Although they differ in age only by a year or two, he's been on the Club security team much longer than the others. His gravel voice though soft and reasonable, didn't detract the bite in his choice of words.

"That secretary is Asami-sama's right hand man, shithead. I won't cross Kirishima-san if I were you. If he says we dance around and cluck like a chicken, I'll not question it. So put the fucking gun away."

Toyo felt uneasy. The flood lights above them cast a circular concave dome of illumination. The trio stood within at what seems like a precipice into the dark. A loud bang followed by the rattling of chains crept out from the blacken void. Scurrying patters of some four legged animal fades out. Then complete silence.

He could see that both his partners were just as uneasy, if not more so. The fact that they have yet to move beyond the reaches of the light spoke clearly of their resolve. Toyo was not of that mind set. Thus instead of following his colleague's advice, the tall man raise his gun up to eye level. By no means was he trigger happy, he just didn't want to be surprised like some victim in a bad horror movie.

"That little creep is toying with us. We have him cornered like a rat. I say we take him down hard and answer to the boss later."

Ucchi gave Mamoru a look that clearly spoke he's considering the idea. The other remains stalwart however and shook his head in negation. Feeling the beginnings of an argument brewing on Ucchi's side, Mamoru was about to remind the other of the task at hand when the underlining subject made the decision for them.

The clip clop stiffness of leather soles striking on pavement echoes out from the dark void of the alley. The steady cadence matches the steady gait of the intruder as he casually reveals his self and stops just at the perimeter of light. The severe brilliance casts long shadows on the other's bare upper torso as the darkness beyond weaves intricate patterns like claws refusing to relinquish their prize. With either hands resting inside his slack pockets, the young man progresses no further.

Mamoru was shocked by how young their target looks. The kid was probably in his late teens or early twenties. To be sure, he is a handsome specimen, enough so to resemble an employee rather than those perverted types who frequents the Club. It was no concern of his what manner of business these clients conducted; however, this pretty boy has managed to have the entirety of the security force activated on his behalf. Whether the boy was dangerous; the older man has his doubts. Their instructions were clear though and he's been around long enough to know who the top predator is. Mamoru stayed his ground.

The same could not be said of Ucchi. As soon as the rogue client appears, the youngest of the three guards tore his gun out of its holster, removes the safety, and trains it on their target.

Despite having two guns drawn on him, the client merely acknowledges this affront with a roll of his eyes before he spoke in a conversational greeting.

"Technically speaking, I'm more vulpine than rodentia; however I can understand your common mistake."

Puzzle looks was the clients only response. The young fellow gave a long suffering sigh before continuing.

"As much as I would be bored in lecturing you fine looking thugs on the topic, I have somewhere urgent to be. So if you would please excuse me."

And just like that the rogue exaggerates his courtly bow of farewell and steps back into the shadows.

Toyo neither care nor want to understand what the boy's whole spiel was about, he was tired of being toyed by a punk. Emitting a low growl of frustration, the guard moves swiftly into the shadow, signaling his colleagues to follow. Only Ucchi gave chase, while Mamoru's instincts fought and won against his better judgment. He couldn't see beyond the dome but upon hearing the interactions, it was enough to have his breath arrested throughout.

An animalistic growl that put Toyo's earlier utterance to shame, shatter the night and send chills racing down his back. A scuffle of broken boxes, bones and shredded flesh slice it further. Piercing screams of pain soon follow. Two shots rang free, a thunderous crescendo. Neither hitting the targets flesh but ricochet off of something metal. A loud thud of two bodies falling haphazardly met with silence, a moment's respite before the lulling mixture of wet gurgles and labor breathing ends the ensemble.

In that moment, Mamoru knew his brief hesitation was what saved his life momentarily. He wasn't one of those people who get spook easily, but fear weigh heavy on his legs.

Then out of the tension, a whistled aria haunting in its clarity drifts towards him. Wearing an angelic expression alight with mirthful eyes, the rogue client cover from head to toe in splatters of blood (and Kami forbid, bits of flesh) casually walks forward. With both bloody hands in his pocket, the boy enters the circle of light. Without stopping his stride or interrupting his musical performance, the young man winks at the guard before swaggering past him and into the main road. The haunting melody leaving a trail behind as their distance widen, eventually lingering only within Mamoru's nightmares in years to come.

Mamoru thirst for breath as if he ran a marathon. The metal smell of blood permeated the air. His feet propel him forward to his fallen comrades, but fell short once his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The scene was gruesome in its entirety. In all his years, the guard's imagination upon hearing the carnage couldn't compete with the real outcome. His gag reflexes rear its ugly head. A shaky hand flew up to cover his mouth as he tries unsuccessfully to staunch the natural reaction. He pulls out his mobile phone with his other hand and speed dials his boss with clumsy fingers. He quickly wipes his mouth clean of his previous meal before attempting to talk.

"It's Ma—ma—mamo—ru of of of Unit th—three. S—send a medic ASAP!"

* * *

 

He loved dogs and them in return. Whether it is playing catch with a ball or a stick, mock wrestling, or jogging with them around the park, it was all fun and games. But this, this was insane. What could have been a cute beagle any other time is now barking and growling at him with an intensity one would often associate with a Rottweiler chasing down a burglar. So of all the rotten luck, Akihito couldn't fathom how he miss being track by such a domesticated animal. At the moment though, the category seem utterly ludicrous on his book. He should have taken that mangle fur heap from earlier as a sign. The thought of that poor rabbit being his own corpse charge his fox senses to go into panic overdrive.

He couldn't understand them. It kept insisting he burrow underground one moment then dart skyward in another. Deciding to give those conflicting resolutions the heave ho, Akihito ran towards the stench of the highway instead. His side ached terribly. That damn beast was closing in on him despite his initial lead. He could feel his energy literally being drain away. A few more meters and he would have meet his target. There, up ahead.

His plan didn't bear fruit as he skids to a stop sending the banked snow to scatter onto the road. Upon reaching his destination, Akihito takes a moment to catch his breath as he took in the barren scene. There would be no passing vehicles. There was at least five centimeters layer of sleet covering the pavement. Then it dawn on him, how grim his situation truly is. It was nightfall on a snowing wintry mountain. There would be no passerby. Even if there was, it would be few and far in between given the unused condition. Despite the slim chance, even if there was hope, while in his fox form, no one would give a moment's pause. He didn't have long to dawdle. Any moment now, the beagle would be at his heel. He could hear the excited barks coming closer.

Akihito's side hurt like the devil and he knew his stitches must have reopened upon his flight. The smell of blood will hinder his escape. Kami knows how sensitive his sense of smell was, the beagle must have been giddy with it. He couldn't keep up the chase for long. His options were limited and being a mangled corpse isn't it.

With no time to think any further, Akihito back peddles before launching himself onto the icy road hoping his initial momentum can propel him down the sloping passage. Just in time too, the loud snap of jaws closing at his haunch tortured a piercing whine from his throat. The sound reverberates throughout the valley sending some perching crows to scatter. Those sharp canines nipped through his fur and tore a hole into his skin while in midair. Blood gush forth instantly.

Akihito grits his teeth and prepares his self for the hard landing. Tucking into a ball of fur quite literally, he absorbs the impact with a yelp, knocking the breath out of him. Disoriented, he unfurls to find his small body being propel down the slippery slope. He manages to turn his head around and witnesses the barking beagle disappearing as he rounds a corner on the mountain pass.

While mentally thanking the gods for his grand escape, Akihito releases a sigh of relief too soon. Turning his head around, the guardrail, the only barrier between the road and the mountain cliffs, was a meter away before impact. The speed of his descent was too great for him to follow the natural curve of the road. Not knowing whether his efforts will be in vain, he calls upon the last of his energy reserve and dug his claws into the ice. To further his attempt to slow himself down, he threw his tender underbelly onto the ice floor; flattening down as much as possible, further aggravating his wounds old and new. He ignores the biting sting; too focus on creating the maximum friction. It was no use; he wasn't slowing down fast enough.

His body slid beneath the guardrail and launches into open air sending chunks of banked snow to follow his freefall. Tears of remorse spring forth as memories of his friends, family, and Asami awash him moments before he was lost into blissful unconsciousness.


	14. My Akihito

Kirishima's confounded look didn't surprise Asami. He hadn't expected an answer.

His own instinct rarely fails short. From the moment he saw footage of Takaba at the pawn shop his mental flags have been raise. Dealing with the boy face to face only confirms it. Yet, he finds himself reluctant to enact the consequences an imposter would receive.

Given how Liu Fei Long and Mikhail Arbotov both have exploited Takaba as bait indicates the boy's unknowing status to the crime syndicates worldwide. Even though he has no intention of announcing an official lover, his coming into enemy territory to rescue Takaba clearly defines that role has been taken. In that endeavor he has no regrets except perhaps not following his initial intentions of blowing up that damn casino ship. The matter would have been brief and to the point in sending out the 'fuck you' message to Fei Long that the man longed for. It would have been his one and only suggestion to the deed sent to the Baishe leader. It would not have been an invitation. However, having Takaba on the ship had dampened his inner pyrotechnic for such flares. He much prefers this current unexpected truce with the temperamental assassin.

Alas it was a matter of time, before another would be challenger takes the metaphorical prize in the form of Takaba and makes a clone of him. Two Takabas may have been kinky. The thought does tantalize his libido, however human cloning hasn't been established yet, as far as the law abiding type of laboratories are concern, let alone accomplishing such a feat in such a short time period. One doesn't simply put his Takaba into a copy machine, press the button, and out comes an exact replica. If not cloning, then such artisan plastic surgery was extraordinary. The candidate to undergo such an extreme measure has to have the right physique, musculature, and bone structure. No matter how good the surgeon is, one can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear or so that American saying goes. The chances were slim, but he was prepared for such an event or so he thought.

He'd never thought it would be this soon after the fiasco with Fei Long. His reports never hinted at such an unknown enemy on the horizon with such intentions. Asami prided himself in knowing whether a potential enemy even scratches an itch. He should know. He paid top yen to be omniscience. It would seem an inquiry need be made. He took a mental note of that task before continuing his internal dissension.

The imposter they've sent was good. The young man waited for Asami to make the move in bringing him into the fold. The song and dance had a different tempo, it intrigued him; and then Takaba's added confidence aroused him; whereas the game they played amuse him.

Asami had his reasons for his so called boon he'd chosen from the imposter. Each of his requests had a function. The first served two purposes. He had seen how fast the imposter can move on surveillance, it would have been easy for the thief to cheat the game. The first case was to prevent or at least limit the boy's capabilities. The second case allowed him to examine the boy's body thoroughly. Being intimately familiar with every inch of Takaba's skin, Asami had to approve of the craftsmanship. From head to toe, the imposter had all the imperfections and flawlessness his Takaba composes of. There was no scar out of place, any freckles misplaced nor curves and arches exaggerated. Even the timbre of his voice was spot on. The resemblance was remarkable. No plastic surgeon living or otherwise and or any talented special effects makeup artist could have render such a flawless replica. If there was, he may have use of such a person in his organization.

However it was blatantly clear that that boy wasn't Takaba.

Why would someone bother to carry out such an expensive counterfeit only to forget a full immersion course on the real Takaba's mannerisms, quirks, and patterns of speaking? Perhaps it was more believable to pretend amnesia than it is to be a thespian.

There were too many contradicting factors. Per his keen observation, initially and throughout their meeting the young man truly seems not to recognize him as a lover, target or interest even. It was only the mention of a game did the imposter shown some signs that resemble the real Takaba's enthusiasm. Added to that, the blatant sexual confidence exuding off of the other had been great encouragement of Takaba's potential. It tempted Asami to want an exploration of the possibilities regardless who's wearing the skin.

The imposter's allure didn't throw him off the scent though. The mediocre conversation he conducted and Kirishima's thoughtful introduction of alcohol via the dealer had a purpose as well. Asami was able to extract several key observations from their brief exchange. Firstly, the boy never got drunk and his over confidence made the other sloppy. Asami found the fool's lack of recognition, assumptions, and arrogance, annoying. Lastly, Asami care not how the other did it but the boy cheated despite giving his word not to. If the imposter was trying to get into his good graces, he failed miserably. There was more to the real Takaba than the sexual attraction between them.

Thus the conundrum. The body and the personality did not match.

The likeliest of explanations would be Takaba is suffering from amnesia. His adventurous lover was known for getting into trouble. Perhaps he's taken a blow to the head. It would explain the different characteristics embodying the form as well as the unusual disappearance act. Logic would deem it possible, however, his gut says otherwise. As with all things in dealing with Takaba Akihito thus far, Asami has always follow his gut. Odd how it was his logic that stayed his hand in dealing with this imposter.

For if one had woken without memories of his past, wouldn't one be asking questions instead of acting like an ass? The fellow he met seems to know precisely what he was doing and what he wanted. Even the casual mentioning of his return from up North didn't cause any traumatic memories to accost him. Bottom line is the boy did not look like he suffered from a concussion. If anything, the evasive skills he'd seen earlier on screen showcased otherwise.

With his mind made up, Asami tosses back the rest of the bourbon and turns to face his two most trusted associates.

His eyes, unaffected by the drink, shone bright and clear with purpose.

"Kirishima, prepare the fastest route to Nikko tonight. Ensure half dozen men await my orders upon my arrival. Suoh, stay here to coordinate the efforts in securing that imposter. I want names and the real Takaba's whereabouts. I give you leave to use force if necessary."

The secretary looks stricken by his edict. He saw hesitation than determination cross those clearly controls features and had waited patiently for the other to voice the matter. However this was not the outcome he derived.

"With all due respect sir, it did not occur to me this Takaba-san is a counterfeit. If anything, a split personality would explain his dissociation."

Asami rewarded the secretary with a smirk. Leave it to Kirishima to be one step behind him.

"One simply doesn't learn martial arts overnight, Kirishima."

That leap in judgment allowed the secretary to reluctantly nod his acceptance of his decision. From the silence after, a deep baritone interrupted.

"Asami-sama."

Surprise by the normally taciturn bodyguard's request to speak, it took the crime lord a moment extra to address the issue.

"I would like to request your permission to bring in a few associates of mine to aid the hunt, sir."

Finding the request odd, given that it was spoken at all. Asami has given no cause to not trust these two to make certain decisions without his specific consent. His face must have relay his confusion for Suoh continued in explanation.

"These… professionals… may have eccentric methods and payment requirements, sir."

Asami caught on to the brief hesitation and found it to be suspicious; however Suoh has never given him cause to doubt his judgment. He knew the payments some bounty hunters, assassins and skill surgeons had exacted before. The fact that Suoh is asking beforehand means their methodology or form of payment may have legal ramifications. He didn't think there was a need for them. The imposter may have escaped, but Asami believe in his men.

His decision was soon changed moments later when an unexpected knock occurred. Normally he would have reprimanded whoever it is for such interruptions, however the frantic pace caught his interest. He motioned for Suoh to open the door.

Without pause the Club Manager gave a deep bow of respect before entering and closes the door. The man looked nervous; enough so to give Asami pause. He had appointed the fellow to manage Club Fetish mainly due to his unflappable will. What could have caused the old Manager such trepidation? The suspense was short lived.

"My apologies Asami-sama. I have urgent news I thought you would wish to hear as soon as possible."

He gave a nod for the other to continue.

"As you may know, Unit three left in pursuit. I have received word from one of them. My senior officer, Fujimiya Mamoru, called in for a medical assistance. Two of his teammates suffer from severe lacerations. One is pronounced dead, sir."

The grave silence that follows couldn't have been more felt. Asami's narrow eyes spoke clearly of his resolve. He turns to Suoh and gave further instructions without hesitation.

"Do what is necessary. Make sure he talks… And if my Takaba is no longer among us, make sure that son of a bitch never see the light of day again."

"As you wish, Asami-sama."


	15. Date with a Pathologist (or Death)

Death knew him well. He’d spent many years providing services befitting its mistress. He neither fear death nor ponder the mystery of it. Death is death: a finality of life that waits for every creature great or small. So it is of little wonder Suoh finds himself knocking at death’s door once more as a visitor.

Beside him, Kenji, one of Asami-sama’s competent enforcers, volunteers to join him on this task. The old mortician and the pretty Pathologist Asami-sama kept on as permanent retainers were waiting for him with the decease. There would be two other, to whom Suoh rarely calls upon, will complete his team. No doubt the duo would be either en route to the crime scene or has already started the hunt as Suoh and Kenji make their way to the morgue.

They had no time to waste if the situation was to be contained. There would be no crime tape around the site; no police bureaucracy blocking their way, no pesky reporter making a spectacle of the decease even. Accordingly, there would be no lengthy investigation by Tokyo’s finest homicide detectives. In fact, there would be no case to speak of. Suoh made sure of it.

An internal investigation will be handled by him personally. Pictures were already taken by medics upon the scene and the dead body was transported post haste. The cleanup crew would have been notified by his other team members as soon as they finish their analysis. All other casualties were sent to a private clinic to receive medical help while awaiting his inquiry. However, unlike most detectives he’s encountered, Suoh prefers to interview the dead first. From his years of experience, they tend to be more honest with their testimony.

The silent trek down towards the morgue section of the old funeral home was the same 150 steps in length. He counted at every single visit; the habit sooths him.

His partner’s low erratic breathing disrupts his current count. Suoh spares him a sideward glance. It would seem though, Kenji like most people, fidgets with unease the closer he reaches those double doors as if it was the gates of hell itself. Suoh ponders whether to inform the young enforcer that those gates open anywhere, at any time and for any one. He gives a mental shake of his head and dismisses the notion. Chitchat and comfort was never his forte. Besides, the longer Kenji stays employed by Asami-sama; he’ll learn that lesson on his own. It was the truth of the matter in their line of work. Suoh takes this as fact and returns to counting.

At 150, the dull metal lined doors of the morgue were pushed open. The cold interior sends a familiar shiver down his spine. Suoh sends a curious glance at Kenji and notices the enforcer closing his eyes with such intensity that wrinkled the surrounding, previously smooth skin into deep set trenches. Although the duration was brief, it was all it took for his partner to set his game face into place. Kenji’s mental lapse has shortened once more by a half second.

It wasn’t a big feat by any means, but eventually the enforcer will no longer wear a mask and those smooth baby cheeks would be lined by wrinkles. That face he wears will then be set in stone along with the rest of him. It is a metamorphic state in which a person in their profession must reach in order to survive. That day has already emerged for Suoh years ago, however he vows to embrace death with a smile, or a smirk at the least if he could manage his facial muscles at such a time.

He made no effort to conceal any wayward emotions. There was none. The decease died in the line of duty. It was commendable, an honorable death. Before he proceeds into the room, Suoh gave the old mortician and reputable doctor a nod in greeting before he directs his attention to the dead security guard.

Ignoring the surprise from Kenji, Suoh performs a deep bow of respect before he approaches the metal table on which the cadaver lay.

He hadn’t meant to disrupt the proceedings but something didn’t seem right.

It was barely pass nine in the evening, but it would seem rigor mortis has already set in. That shouldn’t have been the case. It had only been no more than an hour since the body had been found. Normally, it would take a total of three hours before the body’s muscles start to contract and stiffen.

With a clinical eye, Suoh inspects the body from head to toe with an once-over before he zooms in particular sections. His suspicions intensify as the minutes lap by.

* * *

 

The doctor exchanges a puzzled look with the old mortician. This behavior was most unprecedented from their normal routine. She knew the man to be a stickler for procedures.

She cocked her head to the side and commented offhandedly, “He is staring at the corpse quite intently isn’t he? Rather peculiar.”

Under daily circumstances, the homely professor would have died from mortification in speaking her mind with such ease especially in spite of knowing with whom she is employed by. However, she felt unusually safe in the company of her peers. The old mortician made her feel right at home. He reminded her of her old grandfather, always calm and soft spoken. However odd, it was the presence of Suoh-san at every investigation that made her relax and truly felt confident in her skills.

She lost count of how many cases over the years in which her professional opinion has been sought out and appreciated. She knew the bulk of her work would never be documented or call under duress to testify at court. She didn’t mind at all. In fact, she felt elated in the opportunity to hone her skills (especially the unorthodox methods) outside of the classroom and laboratories.

The Pathologist was about to make another observation when she was startled a few breaths after her initial comment.

“Shut your trap you heartless bitch! I’ll teach you for disrespectin’—!”

That harsh voice belonging to the young man that accompanied Suoh-san surprised her. Too comfortable in her setting, she hadn’t noticed the new addition lurking by the door. Her heart dropped to her stomach when the enforcer advance upon her at a speed she couldn’t escape even if she had advance warning. Her feet wouldn’t budge; shaking as they were, it would have been fruitless. Bracing herself, the professor clenched her eyes shut and anticipated the wide arc of his backhand.

Seconds ticked by and the blow never landed.

Her heart thunder with renew life. The professor bravely opens one eye then the other, scarcely believing the scene before her.

Suoh-san had silently moved from the table to intercept. The bodyguard had the enforcer’s offending hand trapped in a half nelson while the other arm twisted behind the man’s back.

Despite how flush his face was turning, the young man had the good sense not to struggle. After a full minute, Suoh-san releases the arm from the man’s back and moved his free hand to caress the enforcer’s throat. The underling tenses and swallows in trepidation. His Adam apple bobs up and down with the movement. He didn’t know what to expect from his superior. This was the second time he’s worked directly under Asami-sama’s left hand man. However, in spite of having the stoic man’s reputation preceding him, Kenji found the real thing to be much more intimating especially when all that strength was directed at him, personally. Yet, the young enforcer would have never guessed that the normally taciturn security officer was capable of such a threat in so many words without raising his voice above a whisper.

“You will refrain from further violence on Dr. Takahashi. Go back to your post like a good guard dog and listen. Perhaps you will learn something useful. However, if I hear another bark from you, I’ll personally rip out your tongue. Do you understand me, Kenji-kun?”

The deep baritone held not a trace of anger, but the threat was clear. The young man made another visible swallow then nodded as best he could. Suoh gave the man’s throat a brief squeeze before releasing him from the hold. He then turns his hulking size fully to face the professor and gives a deep bow.

When he is set upright, the professor took a step back from the intensity of his gaze. Her heart leapt forward and her face flushes a becoming pink. She knew she had to say something in spite of how scared she still felt and summons up courage to speak. Her voice sounded squeaky to her own ears.

“M— my a— apologies, K—Kenji-san. I— it was insensitive of me to address the decease…as such. I….. forget sometimes…. Perhaps on purpose in order to do my job. Again I’m sorry.”

Kenji turns away slightly, his posture clearly showing signs that he was uncomfortable with her words or perhaps he was embarrassed by the public reprimand from his own superior. He only gave her a curt nod in response before returning to his post by the door.

Relieved by the defuse tension somewhat, Dr. Takahashi sent a nervous glance towards Kenji-san before addressing her savior directly after she cleared her throat out for good measure.

“Suoh-san, earlier on, I notice that you were studying the decease quite closely. Have you notice something worth mentioning?”

The hesitation on his face was clear and the professor began to feel excitement overtaking her prior fear. She was hoping this wouldn’t be another cut and dry case. Normally the scenarios prior to the death of the subject were never mention to the Pathologist in any textbook investigation. After all, her observations were subjective to a degree and no prosecutor wishes to taint the evidence with emotions like anger or sympathy. However in working with Suoh-san, most times he would fill her in on the gruesome details once she finishes her examination. Oddly, she fondly looks forward to those times if only to confirm her hypothesis. She enjoyed it to such an extent, that she even mentioned this to Asami-sama as a special perk for her cooperation. And so she awaits Suoh-san’s reply with baited breath.

“Yes, but I will voice my comments after your initial examination doctor. This need not be a thorough autopsy. I only wish to know the immediate cause of death and any outliers you may notice.”

She gave him a firm nod and signals the old mortician to begin preparation.

Donning her usual white lab coat over her simple cream blouse and black pencil skirt, Dr. Takahashi brushes her long unruly curls back and tries her best to contain them with a black band. She then pulls on a pair of extra small latex gloves then puts the clear plastic, splatter shield mask over her face. She gave another nod to her colleague when she notices he’s ready with his typical clipboard on hand.

Without further delay, she began. Her voice, though meek, it steep with pure authority on the subject.

“Subject’s name is Uchiya Renzo. Age: 24. Height: 174 cm. Weight: 68 kg. Blood type: O positive. Time of death: approximately twenty hundred hours. Note on initial observation. Open wound on the jugular, left torso below the breast pocket, both palms and right outer thigh. Blood splatter on clothes indicates from own wounds as well as from another source. Possibly, may belong to a bystander and or the perp at close range.”

She pauses and gasps upon her discovery. The professor immediately scans and began disrobing the body. After a few moments, she managed, with the grateful help of Suoh-san after seeing her struggle, to disrobe the cadaver down to his boxers.

“Upon closer examination, rigor mortis has already set in an hour after death which indicates the decease may have exposure to elevated temperature during and or after time of death. Further review indicates a fatal gouge to the jugular with a section of flesh removed, defensive wounds on both palms, blunt stabs to the mid section, and precise lacerations that are less than finger width apart at knee lev— Hm...”

Something caught her eye. It was very faint, but each time she moved slightly from her point of observation, a sheen of light would reflect off it. Her brows furrowed. She then uses one hand in a pincher's grasp to widen the open slit instead and her eyes immediately brighten.

Dr. Takahashi hastily reached for a ceramic tweezers and a small vial before she returns her focus to her discovery. Very carefully, she plucked what seem like a jagged edge sliver of something covered partially in blood off the opening she was examining and drop it in the vial. She then absently hands it over to the mortician who placed it through a metal stand with circular slots behind him.

"As I was saying, there are two precise lacerations behind both knees. Upon initial inspection, it is confirmed that the tendons were indeed cleanly severed with something exceptionally sharp. Possibly a multiple scalpel-like instrument or razor sharp claws. Closer examination of what first thought was defensive wounds at wrist level indicates similar precision. There appears to be some dark residue on the decease's right hand. Will be testing for GSR momentarily."

The doctor absently nods her thanks to the old mortician when he hands her a single piece of adhesive lifter. She immediately dabs at the dark residue and hands the stub back to be analyzed later. Next, Dr. Takahashi takes up a dental pick, and then routinely scrapes beneath the fingernails of the corpse over a small white piece of waxen paper in order to collect them into another small vial.

With both vials placed side by side in their respective holder, she removes her gloves and tosses them in the bio-toxic waste bin before she dons on a fresh pair and removes her splash guard head piece. She then took an opaque small bottle marked H20 and squirt some into both vials before picking up both in each hand and swirl the contents around. When she stopped, both vials appear a varying degree of red.

Dr. Takahashi’s frown returns when she peers closer at the contents within. Immediately she places the vials back in their stand and pull out a small strip of see-through plastic as well as a plastic bag mark Hexagon OBTI Kit. Then using a needle nose tweezers, she grasp the floating sliver from one vial and place it on the plastic strip and hand it over once again to the old mortician for analysis. Next, she opened up the kit and took out what looks like a pregnancy stick and a small eye dropper bottle. With practice ease, Dr. Takahashi suctioned up a dollop of red liquid in the other vial with the dropper and release it onto the sample well of the stick. Immediately a single blue line appears. She waited for several more minutes, however nothing happened.

With her frown still in place, she moves towards the two microscopes already prepped for her usage with the slides in place. She peered through one, nods absently at her discovery before she moves on to the second one and takes a moment longer.

“Mori-san, could you please search through the decease’s garments and see if you can find any unusual hairs or fibers? Thank you.”

After a few minutes, the old mortician returns with a few adhesive lifters and places them within her peripheral. For good reason it seems, Dr. Takahashi efficiently swaps them out without even taking her eyes away from the microscopes eye piece. After dialing up a few magnifications and swapping the other slides easily, she turns around to address Suoh with a puzzle look on her face.

“Being this as my initial evaluation, I can deduce the following: the victim indeed fired his gun and the lacerations I can confirm are neither from a metal instrument or animal claws. In fact, I can vouch that they are in fact made from razor sharp human nails to be precise.”

That odd statement hung in the air until Kenji voiced the unanimous reaction from the three men.

“What!?”

Quite frankly unperturbed by her own statement, Dr. Takahashi points excitedly.

“Look through there if you will.”

Despite the invitation, Kenji waited for his superior’s nod of approval before he vacated his post to sate his curiosity. When the enforcer lifts his head in puzzlement, Suoh quietly stepped up to the microscope as well. However, upon finishing he only gave her a nod to continue.

“I found that piece of nail lodged in bone. The cut in the knee was deeper than I thought. Also, judging by the directional vector of the cut as well as the additional shallow cuts accompanying the lethal one—If indeed the killer used his fingers—I would say the perp was right handed and used these two fingers like so.”

Dr. Takahashi raised her index and mid finger upwards, then slightly separated to demonstrate the cutting motion.

“This would also explain the blunt stabs to the mid section.”

She then pointed at the decease’s abdomen to further illustrate her point.

“My first initial thought was that it was two separate weapons that may have caused these and the lacerations. However, given the width and diameter of the puncture wounds—“

She again raises her right hand with the two fingers extended and demonstrates the stabbing motion; her small fingers would have fit perfectly within the larger holes.

“This also would explain the nearby bruise discoloration from the remaining knuckles as the perp’s hand was thrust to the hilt. However this is not what puzzles me.”

Dr. Takahashi took a moment to collect her thoughts, as if struggling to fit her observation into something feasible. Once more she gives a nod to herself in making a resolution before she pushes her glasses back in place despite it not having noticeably slipped at all.

“What puzzles me is that the blood along with some epithelial tissue found beneath the victim’s nails is not human.”

“What!?” “Are you sure?”

Dr. Takahashi ignored Kenji’s second outburst to address Suoh’s much more telling reaction.

“Yes. Quite positive. The foreign fibers found on the victim’s clothing are dismissible, however, the silver follicles in which I thought were human hair is indeed from an animal.”

“What does that even mean? That he has a pet cat or something? Or ran into a large rat? And how can you even tell?”

This time, the doctor did turn towards Kenji and answer his rhetorical, albeit sarcastic, question quite seriously.

“It means when Mori-san checked for any signs of transfer, only animal fur was found and no humans. As for the pet cat theory, no species of silver breeds have this particular shade or length. Thus ruling out the rat as well. Also, human hair tends to be coarser and exhibits certain traits due to aging or dye products. I may be able to get some DNA analysis on the species in question.”

“Again what does the animal part even mean?”

Suoh can see that Kenji was more than visibly affected by this than he ought to. In judging from the enforcers previous threat to Dr. Takahashi and his initial voluntary service, it all made sense now. Perhaps he should have Kenji remove from the hunt. Sentiments can cloud one’s judgment. Suoh couldn’t afford the enforcer to make any rash decisions. Takaba-kun’s wellbeing depended upon his ability to remain calm and collected. Kenji will not do.

With his mind made up, Suoh gestured for the enforcer to come with him and they withdraw to a corner.

“Kenji-kun, how long have you known Uchiya Renzo?”

Surprise then guilt splash quickly within the enforcer’s eyes before the other controlled his response. At any other given time, Suoh would have been proud.

“And Toyo Ueno?”

The stiffening of Kenji’s jaw was his answer.

“I want you off the case—“

“I can’t Suoh-sama! Please! Ucchi was dating my sister. I was the one that got Ucchi and Toyo the job. I need to do something or I can’t live with myself.”

Kenji dropped to his knees and prostrate deeply to his superior, pleading his case.

“Suoh-sama, please!”

The tension was high in the room, Dr. Takahashi and Mori-san could only stare in awe at the scene. It was heartwarming, Kenji’s plea. Silently they pray the ever stoic Suoh-san would relent and grant his subordinate his wish.

At that precise moment, the instant buzz of a phone on silent was enough to disrupt the tension.

Suoh made the move to retrieve his mobile device from his inner breast pocket and engage in listening to the frantic call on the other end. After a long duration, he began his instructions.

“Secure his hands behind his back with metal cuffs as well as his feet immediately. Gag his mouth as well.”

“Yes, now do you keep any ofuda type of talisman or good luck charm with you?”

After a short pause,

“Yes, the type of talisman you would receive from a Shinto shrine on New Year’s would do. Gather as much as possible from your team. Unfold and affix them on the follow key locations—water or saliva would do. Now the locations: forehead, upper sternum, heart, two centimeters above his belly button, both wrist and ankles. Affix any remainder on his joints. I want him immobilized and ready for transport upon my arrival.”

“They caught him?”

Kenji’s excited interjection received a slight, very miniscule frown from Suoh and the enforcer immediately clamp his mouth shut. With his measuring eyes never taken away from his subordinate, Suoh punched another call directly to his associates.

“We found him collapsed five blocks north of the incident.”

Another heartbeat later.

“ Yes. He's unconscious. I’ve instructed them to secure him and use whatever ofudas they can find. I will meet you there.”

“Suoh-san, what is going on?”

Luckily for Dr. Takahashi or quite possibly, fortunately for Kenji, Suoh relent his stare to address her instead.

“I will inform you as soon as I am able. Kenji-kun, let’s go.”

The pathologist and the old mortician watch the duo set off at a much quicker pace. Both shook their heads then a smile dawn on the doctor’s face. It looks like Suoh-san has a heart after all.


	16. New Testaments and Oldcomers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, its been a while. This chapter has been sitting around for two years. I've finally dusted it off and clean up the wording in hopes it will jog my muse. Encouragement is certainly welcome.

Kenji is a ticking time bomb. Suoh knows this. He also knows that Kenji is a damn good enforcer and an honest man. 

The fact of the matter is he’d seen men who’d face tragic events such as his either to themselves or loved ones become unrecognizable. Most would have the worst of themselves be magnified and twisted beyond any semblance of their previous selves. Along with a path of destruction following their wake where the line in the sand is forever wipe out by the ebb and flow of compounded misery. Those who survived, becomes fortified by the experience, learn to build stronger walls and set harsher boundaries to prevent feeling again. 

Yet, there are a rare few…like a specific young man who has the ability to redraw that line in the sand time and time again no matter how many times the tides came to shore. He’d witness firsthand the effects of said person on the most jaded of men like Asami Ryuichi and Liu Fei Long. This young man had the capability to impel such stubborn men to act on his behalf without seeking any gain, merely to acquiesce at his behest to do what was right.

Suoh knows the odds. It was a gamble to place Takaba Akihito within Kenji’s reach. He trusts that he won’t be counting Kenji’s tick marks for long.

During the short trip towards their destination, Suoh drove while he had Kenji place two phone calls: the first, to relay their time table to Kirishima and the second, to acquire the status of Toyo Ueno. 

Unfortunately, the man had passed away on the operation table, not long after Suoh and Kenji had arrived at the morgue. Fujimiya Mamoru, the only living witness stayed with him to the end. It was he who dutifully gave his guilt-laden testimonial on speakerphone as the enforcer listened on with his face set in stone. 

Suoh didn’t pry nor offer any condolences, but is attentive to the Q&A he requested Kenji to review beforehand.

“You said Toyo said something to you before he lost consciousness, what was it?” asked Kenji as he tried to keep his voice even.

“I—it didn’t make any sense….h—he kept rambling on and on… something about his mom and…and seeing his dad in hell soon….saying something about a demon’s out to get him… The look on his face… he was so scared—”

Kenji was quick to interrupt Mamoru’s downward spiral again.

“Yeah, he never forgave his dad for running off with the mistress, been taking care of his mother since he was thirteen. I’ll drop by and give her the news myself after we take care of the bastard who did this to them.”

“Be careful, Kenji. There’s something ain’t right about that guy! Th—that look he had… with the cold eyes and crazed grin… and all that blood… like it was fun! I thought I’d seen them all. All those weird ass rich folks with their kinks but this… he’s a cold blooded killer… a—a monster! …. still I shouldn’t have frozen up like that! I was there for fuck sake! I could’ve done something!”

They could hear sobbing on the other end. Kenji’s eyes were hard stones focusing on the night horizon even as his shoulders tense even further. Though he schooled his face well, anger rung clear in his voice, “You could’ve died, Mamoru. That monster is twisted enough that he let you live because of some fucked up game he made the rules to. He wanted to gloat; to leave a witness; to scare you shitless; what-the-fuck-ever. And you _did_ do something. You gave Toyo a chance to survive. Don’t beat yourself up on this, man. They wouldn’t want you to. Don’t go doing something stupid either, you hear me? Help me take care of Toyo’s mother and Ucchi’s little brother. “

On the other end, they could hear Mamoru sniffling quietly before he gave a meek promise in accepting Kenji’s unspoken lifeline thinly veiled behind a threat, “I… I… I will.”

There was a long pause and they could see their men a block away. Kenji waited another beat then asked the next question on his mental list.

“Did that fucker said anything to you?”

“No man. He’d just….he started to whistle… this creepy tune… its stuck in my head now…a children song for Kami sake! Walked right by me and wink, with his bloody hands in his pocket like he just hadn’t murder my colleagues…fuck—“

Kenji interrupted again, “I don’t want to make it worse for you, but we need to know. Now, I know you couldn’t see what happened, Mamoru, but did you hear anything out of place or notice anything odd?”

“I… I don’t know…it’s like what I told’ya. I heard gunfire and…and some struggling… there was this slicing sound! I didn’t think he had a weapon…. didn’t see on him… Kami! That monster carved them up— ”

Kenji gritted his teeth at the reminder but caught Suoh’s pointed look. Details, right. Despite his boiling anger, the enforcer complied if only to distract Mamoru further.

“That twisted fuck. Try not to think about that, Mamoru. Is there anything else? Like, did something explode when the gun ricochet? Like a gas main, maybe?”

“…..no. No explosions.”

Lastly, Kenji force himself to wrap things up.

“Was there anything else? Any details you might have forgotten?”

After a brief pause, Mamoru said quietly, “….that song. I…it was an old folksong…. about a trapped dog or something… ugh! It’s stuck in my head. I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything else.”

The car stopped and Suoh gave the nod to end the call. Kenji thanked Mamoru, made his excuses and promised to visit before he follows his superior to meet the rest of their quartet. Suoh didn’t comment on the tautness of the enforcer’s clenched fists or the tension in his jaw. He had taken the precaution to confiscate Kenji’s .45 Glock and hunting knife however.

Unmarked parked cars with headlights blaring created a blockade at the mouth of the alley while men in black suits secured the perimeter. Three others stood out clear as day among the people gathered.

“How is he?” said Suoh without preamble upon his arrival on the scene.

“Young, handsome and apparently a bloody murder,” responded the crouching bald monk dressed in a dark grey hakama-pant set beside Takaba’s slump form against the wall of a warehouse.

Unmoved, Suoh’s blank stare remain stalwart.

After releasing a put upon sigh, the monk stands up and began stretching in exaggeration, “You’re no fun. The kid’s out cold.”

At his peripheral, Suoh kept aware of Kenji’s position even as he address the more reliable partner of his associate, “What got to him?”

With a sneer of disgust, the more refine of the pair dressed in a two-piece entirely black suit with matching shirt and tie, sniffs behind a white handkerchief at the remainder of their party, “That street punk with the bad dye job said this young man just collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut off.”

Finally given something to do, Kenji advanced on the interloper like a viperous snake, “Him, with the trousers undone?”

The aforementioned target backs up and raises both hands as if to make himself look harmless. Unfortunately, the monk crowed at his expense, “Saw that did yah? Seesh, kids these days. You would think they’d called for help or the police if they saw a shirtless man with blood on them during the middle of winter. But no, let’s rape him instead.”

Upon hearing that accusation, the punk step up and sputtered, “Man! That’s not it! I told’ya, I ain’t rape no guy! I was stealing from him, okay!”

Kenji took one look at him up and down, before sneering, “Yeah, like what? His underwear?” 

“Like hell!”

Then the monk chimed in, “No, I think it was his virtue.”

The accused gave the monk a dirty look before yelling, “Fuck you!”

“I thought it was fuck _him_?” responded the monk with a leer.

Suoh was neither annoyed nor disgusted as he let their ruse play on and kept his position between Kenji and his true prey.

The street punk at this point became fed up enough to speak beyond what he’s been parroting to the others, “Naw man! It ain’t like that! I was taking his pants! His pants!”

“Is that the new slang for it now, Tori-sensei?” His other associate sniff behind his white handkerchief in disgust.

Beyond irate now, the punk stepped around Kenji and gestured with a sweep of his hands, “Fuck all y ’all! It’s Gucci! The tags dope. He look my size.”

Kenji was quick to press, “You rob dead guys often?”

“He ain’t dead yo! I checked.”

“What did you see? Tell me,” Suoh finally stepped in, having heard enough to understand the interloper’s part in this.

Whether it was out of fear for Suoh or not, the punk took an uneasy swallow upon being addressed directly by the largest guy present and answered without any bluster for the first time, “Look man, like I said before. The guy was whistling some fucking creepy tune and then just collapsed like Pinocchio, you know, like that old foreign anime…”

“Then what happen?” encouraged Suoh.

“Then I came over and check him out—” the punk responded uneasily.

“Sure,” the monk singsong.

This time it wasn’t only the punk who glared at the monk but almost everyone else as well, “Shut up! For an old monk you sure have a dirty mind! I check the bloody fucker to see he’s okay. For the record, the blood ain’t his! Then I saw his digs and wanted some.”

“Some action, right?”

Suoh drew the banter to a standstill with just one word, “Tori-sensei.”

So it was with a huff that the monk stalks off and sits on the hood of Suoh’s car to sulk.

He then gestures for the interloper to continue, “Then what?”

“Then those MIBs with that priest reject showed up. That’s all I know, man. Can I go now?”

It was a long minute of Suoh staring unnervingly into the punk’s eyes before he gave a curt nod and a strict reprimand, “For the record, people who rob others don’t usually take off their own clothes first.”

Then Suoh dismissed the punk with the blooming red face entirely and went to pick up Takaba like precious cargo. While doing so, he ignored Kenji’s heated glare on his back as well as Tori-sensei’s crowing potshot at the retreating steps of their interloper, “Yeah, that’s what I thought!”


End file.
